Sorrell leaned forward, fingers steepled on the table. “I assume you didn’t come empty-handed, Thane. Let’s see what you’ve brought.”
Without hesitation, Thane pulled up images on a sleek holo-pad—the dead mage found near the motel, and the man identified as connected to House Glint. The bright, detailed projections flickered in the dim light of the booth.
Sorrell studied them with sharp, calculating eyes, his lips pressed thin. After a long moment, he shook his head. “Neither of these work for my House. Hit squads like these aren’t our style.”
His gaze shifted to Riven. “And why is this one here?” he asked pointedly. “If you didn’t bring him along to entertain me, of course.”
Before Riven could answer, Thane cut in, calm and precise. “I needed to see how you reacted to him. He’s the one who survived the attack by the so-called Glint mage.”
Riven’s heart hammered in his chest, the weight of the unspoken question hanging thick between them.
Sorrell turned to Riven again, his gaze sharper this time, though the edge of mischief lingered in the curl of his lips. “So you’re not fucking him?”
Thane didn’t even blink. “That’s none of your business.”
That drew a genuine smile from Sorrell. “Interesting,” he murmured, sitting back in his chair as if that told him far more than it should have. “And here I thought you’d finally gotten over your whole choke-collar aloofness thing.”
Thane ignored that too, fingers tapping once against the table before he spoke. “Can you think of anyone who might benefit from pushing Virellien and Glint into a war?”
Sorrell tilted his head, considering. “The thing about being a Great House,” he said, voice smooth, “is that you’re never short on enemies. People hate us just for existing. For having power. For keeping it.”
His words carried an easy confidence, but Riven didn’t miss the flicker of calculation behind his eyes.
Sorrell shifted forward again. “But that’s not what you’re really asking. You want to know if someone’s trying to maneuver us into tearing each other apart while they sit back and pick the bones. So.” He arched a brow. “What’ve you stuck your foot into this time, Thane?”
“I’m looking into the Soulglass problem,” Thane said bluntly.
Sorrell folded his hands together, gaze sharpening like a blade unsheathed.
“Ah,” he said quietly. “Now that’s interesting.”
Sorrell leaned back, tongue wetting his bottom lip in thought. “Have you heard the whispers?”
Thane’s expression didn’t shift, but Riven noticed the pause. “Depends which whispers you mean.”
“The ones about the Hollow Hand.”
Riven felt the ripple of tension run through the room, subtle but undeniable. Thane went still.
Sorrell turned his gaze to Riven. “Ah, so no one’s explained that bit to the new pet.” He offered a wry, dangerous smile, but there was no humor in it.
“The Hollow Hand,” Sorrell said, fingers tapping slowly on the table, “was a group of Houseless renegades. Outcasts, mercenaries, bastards born outside the gilded cage of the Great Houses but talented enough to matter. They specialized in hits—political assassinations, mostly. Heads of Houses. Heirs. Anyone high enough on the chain to send shockwaves when they dropped.”
His voice was low, hypnotic almost, and Riven found himself leaning slightly forward despite himself.
“They were brutal, surgical. What made them terrifying wasn’t just their magic, though. No, it was how coordinated they were. They didn’t flinch from blood, didn’t blink at toppling dynasties. They took out three Heads of Houses in under a year.”
He lifted his fingers, three sharp taps. “Bang. Bang. Bang.”
Riven swallowed. “And they were…eradicated?”
“In part thanks to House Virellien,” Sorrell said, inclining his head slightly toward Thane. “Your boy here was instrumental in that little campaign. Took years. Whole families died. Cities burned. But eventually, one by one, the Hollow Hand was snuffed out.”
He paused. “Or so we thought.”
Sorrell’s smile disappeared entirely.
“If they’re back,” he said softly, “that’s trouble for all of us. But mostly?” His eyes flicked to Thane. “For House Virellien. If they’ve crawled out of whatever grave you buried them in, they’ll come for you first.”
