Sheila turned away again, resting both hands on the railing now as she looked down into the lower floor of the library.

Far below, she could just make out the general shape of the table they had left behind. Ariana's auburn hair. Max's dark shape seated across from her. Dylan moving too much, even from a distance, because of course he was.

The sight grounded her slightly.

She stood there in silence for several long moments.

Liam did not interrupt.

He simply waited.

Eventually, Sheila spoke again, her voice softer now.

"You know," she said, "a few weeks ago, if you had asked me something like this… I probably would've panicked."

Liam listened.

She smiled faintly, though the expression was more reflective than lighthearted.

"Not because I would've hated the idea," she said. "But because I wouldn't have known what to do with it. I wouldn't have known how to carry something like that without it crushing me."

Her thoughts drifted again—this time more clearly—to Percy.

To the ache she had carried for years.

To the confusion. The anger. The childish hurt she had clung to because it was easier than admitting how deeply she had simply missed him.

Then to the moment that had finally broken all of that open.

The tears.

The words.

The warmth of his arms around her.

The simple, painful truth that what she had wanted most all along was not justice, not punishment, not even an apology.

Just her brother.

Sheila's eyes softened. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"But I'm not in that place anymore," she said quietly.

Liam noticed the shift in her expression.

"…Because of Percy," he said.

This time, there was no surprise in her reaction.

Only a small, helpless smile.

"Yeah," she admitted.

A brief silence followed.

Then she looked sideways at him.

"Was that another guess?"

"Yes."

She let out a small laugh under her breath.

"You are honestly a little annoying when you're right."

"I've been told worse."

That nearly got a fuller laugh out of her, but not quite.

Her smile lingered for another moment before fading into something more thoughtful again.

"Do you know what the hardest part is?" she asked.

Liam did not answer, allowing her to continue in her own time.

"The hardest part," Sheila said slowly, "is that I understand why you're asking me. And part of me already knows you're right."

She looked down at the lower floor once more.

"If the Crescent Kingdom ever decides to deal with you as a problem first and a person second…" She trailed off, then shook her head slightly. "No. Let me say that properly. When that happens… it's going to take someone who can speak before everyone gets too deep into their own pride."

Her voice had grown firmer by the end of that sentence.

Liam remained still.

She turned to him fully again.

"But there's something you need to understand too," she said.

"I'm listening."

"If I do this, I won't be doing it so you can somehow manipulate the Crescent Kingdom from the inside. And I won't be doing it just because we know each other."

"I expected neither."

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

"If I help you, it will be because I believe there is a path that prevents unnecessary conflict. That's all. I won't lie for you, Liam. I won't excuse anything dangerous if you ever become dangerous."

He nodded once.

"That's fine."

She searched his face again, as if looking for any hint that he disliked the condition.

There was none.

In truth, that seemed to make him take her more seriously.

"And if I feel you're using me," she added, her voice calmer now but no less firm, "I stop. Immediately."

"That's also fine."

Sheila stared at him for a second.

Then she gave a quiet, disbelieving breath.

"You're making it very hard to argue with you."

"I'm not trying to argue."

"No," she muttered. "You're worse. You're being reasonable."

That time, the corner of Liam's mouth shifted very slightly.

Not quite a smile.

But close enough that Sheila noticed it.

And somehow, that brief almost-expression softened the moment more than a bigger reaction would have.

She straightened a little from the railing.

"I need time to think about this," she said.

There it was.

Not refusal or acceptance, but the only answer that made sense.

Liam nodded once.

"That's fair."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"This isn't something I can just say yes to because you asked."

"I know that too."

She looked at him for another moment, then sighed softly.

"You really anticipated everything I was going to say, didn't you?"

"Not everything."

"…Most things, then."

He did not deny it.

She shook her head, though there was no annoyance in it anymore. Only a kind of reluctant acceptance.

Her gaze drifted outward again, toward the far windows and the gold-white light of late afternoon filtering through them.

"When I go back home," she said quietly, more to herself than to him at first, "things are already going to feel different. Percy and I finally fixed things, but that also means I can't keep seeing home the way I used to. Not after understanding how much I didn't know."

Then she looked at Liam again.

"If I do this… if I really agree to be that bridge… then I'd have to look at my kingdom the same way too. Not just as my home, but as something I may need to challenge if it refuses to see clearly."

Her voice did not shake.

That, more than anything, told Liam she had meant what she said earlier.

She was stable now.

Truly.

This was not the Sheila who would have been overwhelmed by the implications. This was someone who could look at a frightening truth and remain standing.

Liam's gaze stayed on her.

"That is why I asked you."

A pause.

Then, more quietly:

"Because you can do that."

For a second, Sheila said nothing.

Something in her expression shifted again—something smaller, more inward.

She was not used to hearing trust spoken so plainly.

Especially not from Liam.

Not because he was cold.

But because with him, trust was usually shown in action, not spoken aloud.

And this—

This was trust.

Heavy, inconvenient, dangerous trust.

She let out a slow breath.

"…You really don't ask for small favors, do you?"

"No."

That earned an actual laugh from her this time—soft, brief, and real.

"No, you really don't."

The air between them settled after that.

Not lighter, exactly.

But steadier.

The weight of the conversation had not gone anywhere. If anything, it had only become more real. Yet it no longer felt uncertain in the same way. It had shape now. Boundaries. Meaning.

Sheila drew herself up properly and folded her arms lightly, not defensively, but in thought.

"I'll think about it carefully," she said.

Liam gave a single nod.

"That's all I need."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Don't make it sound like you already know what answer I'll give."

"I don't."

"…You sound like you do."

"I know you won't answer carelessly," he said. "That's enough."

She held his gaze for a moment longer.

Then, eventually, she gave the slightest nod of her own.

"Alright."

Below them, from the distant lower floor, there came the faint scrape of a chair and what sounded very much like Dylan's voice getting too loud again before being shushed into silence.

The sound made Sheila close her eyes briefly.

A hint of fond exasperation crossed her face.

"Somehow," she muttered, "it feels wrong that we just had a conversation this serious while Dylan is definitely down there making Ariana's life harder."

"He usually is."

She shot him a look.

"You say that like it's normal."

"It is."

That made her huff the faintest laugh.

For a few seconds more, they remained there at the railing, side by side, both looking down into the quiet order of the library below.

The conversation had not solved anything.

Not yet.

No final answer had been given.

No promise had been made.

And yet, something important had still happened.

A line had been crossed.

Not one of hostility, but of trust.

Of responsibility.

Of the kind of understanding that did not come easily, and certainly not between two people like them.

Eventually, Sheila pushed away from the railing.

"We should go back before Dylan says something so outrageous that Ariana actually dies from embarrassment."

"She'll survive."

"Dylan might not."

That drew another almost-smile from Liam.

She noticed it this time more clearly.

And for some reason, that small thing made her own expression soften again.

As she turned to start walking, she paused.

Then looked back at him.

"Liam."

He stopped.

"…Yeah?"

Her eyes held his for a brief moment.

"I haven't answered you yet," she said. "But… thank you for asking me directly."

He said nothing.

She continued.

"You could've tried to do this in a more distant way. Through politics. Through manipulation. Through someone easier to use."

Her gaze sharpened—not suspiciously, but with meaning.

"But you came to me yourself."

A brief pause.

"That matters."

Liam looked at her quietly.

Then gave the slightest nod.

"I know."

For some reason, that answer felt fitting.

Nothing overly dramatic.

Nothing unnecessarily softened.

Just an acknowledgment.

Sheila turned away again, and this time the two of them began walking back toward the staircase.

Their footsteps remained quiet against the wooden floor, blending into the calm hush of the library.

And though neither of them said another word before descending, the distance between them no longer felt the same as when they had come up.