Ch6 pt 3

KING'S LODGE — THERON'S CHAMBER — MORNING —
Veronica stands before her father in that dim, heavy room, the air thick with tension.
Theron isn't the charismatic lord he pretends to be in public. His eyes are hollowed out now, cold. He's darkened like a man who's burnt through every emotion except control.
Theron peers through a tall window, the cold wash of the morning light.He stands with his black cape facing her, hands clasped behind him, staring out over the courtyard like a man carved from stone.
Theron: (turns head slightly) "What's wrong?"
Veronica: "Nothing. I did what you asked."
Theron: "And… How is everything? What's he doing?"
Veronica: "He brought back rations, medical supplies before your wagons arrived. He's claiming his position as overseer of the cultivation project."
Theron clinches.
Veronica: "The soldiers seem to love him…"
Theron's mouth twitches into a bitter smirk— thin, humorless, the kind a man wears when someone beneath him has out-performed his own supply runs.
His grin thins, then vanishes, a subtle, calculating wound, then turns.
Theron: "Do you?"
Veronica pauses. 
Her eyes flick away, then back, trying to hold his gaze but can't.
Theron feels her distance. 
He doesn't speak. He just lets the silence sit—
 Heavy, suffocating. 
Theron:"Then he will be useful."
Veronica: "I don't want to do this anymore."
Her voice barely leaves her throat.
 Theron doesn't move. 
Doesn't soften.
 His voice stays level, carved from granite.
 "The importance of this project cannot be overstated. Someone I trust must truly oversee it."
(A beat)
He turns slightly to the window. 
"And you have always served me faithfully."
 (Another long beat)— the kind that presses on the ribs.
Theron: "I know something happened between you two. I will learn what, in time."
His vision shifts to the window. 
(Dismissing her.) "Take some time. Then return to The Whispering Fields with Phillip and Jeffrey."
The room settles into silence again, heavy and unyielding. The door closes behind her with a muted thud— and something inside her chest closes with it.
She moves quickly down the corridor, almost too quickly. The air is colder out here, sharper. Her emotions follow her like colors bleeding into one another.
Suppressed anger, exhaustion, jealousy.The corridor is still cooling around her when a shadow slips into her path.
Traeven.
He doesn't block her, just angles his body enough that she has to slow. His voice stays low, careful, like he's afraid she'll bolt.
Traeven: "…Hey. You alright?"
She lifts her eyes— not fully, just enough for him to read the strain she tried to leave behind in that room.
He studies her face, the way her breath catches, the way she's masking too quickly.
 "Talk to me." 
(A beat)
He softens, something protective flickering through. 
"Is this about Metro?"
That lands.
She doesn't answer, but the silence does for her. Traeven exhales through his nose, a soft, faint, knowing sound. 
"He's different now. I see it too. But, you don't have to carry whatever it is that stirred up— alone."
He steps aside— giving her space, not pressure— but his voice follows her gently. 
"Let me take you out for a bit. Clear your head, fresh air, real food, something that isn't these stone walls."
She keeps her gaze on the floor.
Veronica: "I can't."
She slips around him before he can answer, almost disappearing into the stairwell.
Traeven's jaw tightens— just for a heartbeat, before he smooths it away.
He turns slightly, watching her retreat with that controlled, almost elegant restraint she's known for.
Traeven: "Take the time you need."
His voice stays monotone, but his eyes betray that sound. 
He doesn't follow. 
He just stands there, letting the corridor swallow her footsteps.
— Scene fades —