Without warning, the heavy doors of the great hall creaked open the following evening, cutting through the low murmur of voices around us. All heads turned as a trio entered—Gracia at the center, flanked by Lily and a younger woman who assisted us earlier here.
Gracia walked with her cane in hand, her presence commanding the room without her needing to utter a word. Though she moved slowly, each step held weight—purpose.
Lily broke off from them as soon as she spotted us, hurrying across the hall with her usual poise slightly frayed by fatigue. She reached us, a note of apology already softening her expression.
“I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I had to be sure Jeremiah was alright before I could focus on anything else.”
“Don’t
