The training grounds slowly emptied as nobles and spectators drifted back toward the palace.
The echoes of Llandra's name still lingered in the air.
Jax stepped beside her and rested a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Great job out there today. I'm proud of you."
Her breath caught slightly.
Those words mattered more than the roar of the crowd.
"Thank you," she replied softly.
After a moment she added, quieter, "I didn't use my other skills. I wanted it to be fair."
Jax smiled knowingly.
"That's why I'm proud of you."
She glanced at him.
"You could have used your Legendary Skill and ended it in seconds. Even after how your brothers treated you, you held back. You gave them dignity."
He slipped an arm around her as they began walking.
"And you still won decisively."
She leaned into him slightly.
Unbeknownst to them, Heiron stood not far away.
Elven hearing was superior to that of humans.
Not quite as sharp as Bunny's.
But sharp enough.
He heard the words clearly.
Legendary Skill.
She had one.
And she hadn't used it.
A flicker of realization crossed his face.
Not jealousy.
Respect.
He had suspected she was holding back.
Now he knew.
The moment passed naturally, and the group dispersed toward the palace.
That evening, the royal dining hall transformed into celebration.
Long tables filled with roasted meats, glazed vegetables, fruits soaked in honey wine, and breads dusted with herbs.
There was no hostility now.
No muttered comments about "humans."
The tone had shifted.
He turned and made his way toward them.
Legos followed, quieter than usual, his fiancée at his side.
For a brief moment, tension returned to the air.
Then Heiron stopped in front of his sister.
"You were impressive today," he said calmly.
Llandra blinked.
"Thank you."
Heiron gave the faintest smirk.
"You could have done far worse to us."
Legos stiffened slightly at the comment, then huffed.
"She didn't just win," he admitted. "She dominated."
His fiancée nudged him gently.
"Be gracious," she whispered.
He rolled his eyes lightly, but his tone softened.
"You were incredible, Llan."
The childhood nickname caught her off guard.
Legos continued, "You moved like you'd seen real war. Not just drills."
Heiron added quietly, "Because she has."
Their eyes met.
There was no bitterness there.
Only understanding.
And pride.
Heiron placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You've grown."
Legos nodded reluctantly. "Don't let it go to your head."
She laughed softly.
Their spouses stood beside them, supportive and relaxed.
No hostility.
No forced courtesy.
Just family.
Jax observed everything.
Every micro-expression.
Every shift in posture.
His perception skill ran quietly in the background.
No deception detected.
No forced smiles.
No masked resentment.
This was real.
And that… surprised him.
He expected resistance.
At least some lingering tension.
Instead, what he saw was something simpler.
They loved her.
The rivalry had been pride.
Not hatred.
That mattered.
Heiron stepped back.
"We'll speak more later."
Legos gave Jax a brief nod.
"Take care of her."
There was no threat in it.
Only expectation.
Jax nodded in return.
"I intend to."
Legos was quieter than usual, but no longer defensive.
Heiron conversed respectfully.
Jax noticed it.
His perception skill rarely misread a room.
There was no deception.
No simmering resentment.
If there had been hostility before, it was gone.
Which felt… strange.
He took a slow sip of the mead served to him.
"So," he thought, "I arrive, want to marry your daughter or sister, am already living with her and three other women… and somehow this is improving."
Even for him, it was surreal.
Then the mead truly arrived.
Pixie Mead.
Llandra recognized it immediately.
"Oh no."
Pixie Mead was legendary among elves.
High alcohol content.
But more than that—
It amplified emotion.
Happiness.
Affection.
Flirtation.
Jax lowered his resistance just enough to enjoy it.
Across the table, the Vixens reacted quickly.
Nyxian's laughter grew louder.
Bunny was hugging musicians.
Zee was far more animated than usual.
Even the King and Queen were drinking.
"Mother. Father. I've never seen you partake in Pixie Mead publicly," Llandra said.
The Queen smiled mischievously.
"Oh sweetheart, we always partake. Just never before the court."
The King chuckled.
"We have an image to maintain."
Across the hall, Legos and Heiron were dancing with their partners, louder and less coordinated than usual.
"I love you all!" Legos declared to a nobleman he barely knew.
Heiron was laughing openly.
Jax watched carefully.
Then he asked casually, "What is the most binding article a person can wear?"
The King and Queen paused.
"A crown," Jax answered.
Understanding dawned.
The King's smile faded thoughtfully.
The crown restricted more than movement.
It restricted choice.
He had not hunted in decades.
Not because he lacked skill.
But because he was "not permitted."
The irony lingered.
The feast continued.
But something deeper had shifted in the hall.
The rivalry had softened.
Family lines had redrawn.
And for the first time since arriving—
Jax felt less like an outsider.
And more like someone being welcomed in.