Chapter 63 --63
Elara sat alone in her office and slowly looked around.
It wasn’t much—hardly anything, really—but it was enough for her to work. That was all she needed.
As soon as she settled into the chair, it wobbled. Not slightly. Properly. The kind that makes your balance hesitate for a breath too long. Elara adjusted herself instinctively, then stood up again. She lifted the chair and struck its legs against the floor two or three times, firm and precise, until the unevenness surrendered. When she sat again, it held.
Better.
The table in front of her didn’t fare much better. Its surface was worn thin, edges dulled by time, the wood carrying the quiet exhaustion of years. Anyone else might have scoffed—or worse, complained.
Elara felt neither anger nor frustration.
If anything, she felt reassured.
This place was the safest she could be right now.
She had chosen it herself. Not Dimrti. Not a single administrators. No one knew that Elara had been the one to request this place. There was no grand reason behind it—only caution.
From the moment she had left the capital, she knew eyes would follow her. Too many of them. Watching. Measuring. Waiting for a misstep. If she spent freely, lived comfortably, surrounded herself with splendor, those eyes would sharpen into claws. Questions would come. Then whispers. Then bugs crawling where they didn’t belong.
So she chose the opposite.
Let them believe she had nothing.