Selma Belat sat at one end, eating with relaxed elegance. She wore a simple white dress that somehow made her look more formidable rather than less. Her copper hair was loose around her shoulders, and her eyes were focused on a newspaper spread beside her plate.

She looked up as Jolthar entered and smiled, a genuine expression that transformed her face from beautiful to warm.

"Ah, the victor awakens.

Please, sit and have some food.

You need to rebuild your strength." She gestured to a chair near her.

Jolthar moved to the indicated seat, noting the spread of food, fresh fruits, bread that was still warm, cheese, cold meats, and several dishes he didn’t immediately recognize. He served himself, suddenly aware of how hungry he was.

"How long was I unconscious?" he asked.

"About fourteen hours," Selma replied, taking a sip of what appeared to be herbal tea.

"My healers worked on you through the night. Your injuries were extensive; that young man and deity didn’t hold back."

"I noticed," Jolthar said dryly. He bit into the bread and nearly groaned. It was exceptional—crusty outside, soft inside, with a complex flavor that spoke of skilled baking.

"Everything here is made by craftspeople who take pride in their work," Selma observed, watching him with amusement.

"I don’t tolerate mediocrity in any form."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments.

Jolthar’s eyes drifted to the newspaper beside Selma’s plate. Even upside-down and from a distance, he could make out the headline and accompanying illustration.

"MYSTERIOUS BATTLE DEVASTATES AREA OUTSIDE CAPITAL"

The illustration showed a landscape of destruction, torn ground, scorched surface, and what appeared to be evidence of massive energy releases. The artist had clearly worked from eyewitness accounts, because several details were remarkably accurate.

"They don’t know it was you," Selma said, following his gaze.

"The battle happened far enough from the city that observers couldn’t identify the participants clearly. Current speculation ranges from wild divine beasts fighting to experimental military weapons."

She smiled.

"The truth would cause a panic."

"A mortal wounding a deity in combat," Jolthar said quietly.

"Exactly."

Selma folded the paper and set it aside.

"It challenges fundamental assumptions about the order of things. Mortals are supposed to be beneath deities, unable to truly threaten them. You’ve proven that’s not necessarily true."

"And even more than that, it will cause a huge uproar in the empire. People don’t like when we fight against their favorite deities."

Jolthar took a drink of cool water.

"You don’t seem concerned about that. Most deity children I’ve met find it threatening."

"Most of them are arrogant and short-sighted," Selma replied bluntly.

"They’ve grown comfortable with power, forgotten that strength comes in many forms.

I’m different."

"Because you’re deivruta?" Jolthar asked.

"Half-mortal, half-divine?"

"That’s part of it."

Selma’s expression became more complex.

"Being between worlds gives you perspective. You understand both sides, belonging fully to neither. It makes you see things more clearly."

She leaned forward slightly.

"I can tell that Aphyana had planned it all."

"You don’t like the deities much," Jolthar observed. He also noticed how hostile Aphyana was towards him, like she seemed to hate him without even knowing him. He just kept it in his mind and thought of learning more about her.

"I despise most of them," Selma said with surprising vehemence.

"They claim to be guardians of order and justice, but in reality, they’re tyrants who maintain power through intimidation and violence. They interfere in mortal affairs when it benefits them and ignore suffering when it doesn’t. They demand worship and tribute but give little in return."

Her eyes met his directly.

"You fought one and won. That makes you more worthy of respect than half the so-called divine beings I’ve encountered."

Jolthar found himself smiling despite everything.

"That’s refreshing honesty."

"I don’t believe in pretense," Selma replied.

"Life’s too short and too complicated for lies. Speaking of which—" she gestured to his injuries "—you need to be more careful. You have enemies now. Powerful ones. Aphyana won’t forget what happened."

"I seem to collect enemies," Jolthar admitted.

"It’s becoming a pattern."

She smiled and said, "I have learned about you, Jolthar Kaezhlar. You have caused quite a ruckus in the capital in just a few days of your stay."

"What can I say? Trouble follows me wherever I go."

"Because you challenge the status quo," Selma said.

"Because you refuse to bow to power just because it’s power. That’s admirable, but also dangerous."

She paused.

"You need allies. Real ones, who will stand with you when the next attack comes."

"Are you offering?" Jolthar asked directly.

Selma smiled.

"I’m considering it. You’re interesting, Jolthar Kaezhlar. And I have a weakness for interesting people who irritate my sister."

Before they could continue, the sound of voices came from the entrance hall. The maid who had woken Jolthar hurried in, bowing to Selma. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"My lady, you have visitors. Prince Milan, Prince Andrion, and Lady Cleora Aravain. They say they’re here to see Baron Kaezhlar."

Selma’s smile widened.

"I sent word to Prince Milan that Jolthar was recovering here. Show them in."

A moment later, three figures entered the open hall, and Jolthar felt a wash of relief at seeing familiar faces.

Milan entered first, his expression concerned but controlled. Andrion followed, looking around the space with undisguised interest. And behind them came Cleora, whose face went through several rapid transformations: relief at seeing Jolthar alive, concern at his obvious injuries, and then something harder when her eyes landed on Selma.

"Jolthar," Cleora said, moving directly to him. Her hands touched his face and his shoulders, checking him for injuries with the desperation of someone who had feared the worst.

"We heard you disappeared from the Gilded Pavilion with some woman. We heard that you were drugged, that there was a battle outside the city..."

Her voice caught.

"Are you alright?"

"I’m alive," Jolthar assured her, taking her hands in his.

"Thanks to the lady here."