Very unhelpful.
Caius looks at her for a long moment. His eyebrows climb. Keep climbing. He takes a step toward her, then another, circling her slowly. Assessing.
"She talks," he says, and the delight in his voice is genuine. He turns to me, gesturing at her with both hands. "She TALKS. Koshin. Did you know she could do that? Of course you did—you brought her. But did you know she'd be good at it?" He turns back to Iowyn, studying her like she's a weapon he wasn't expecting to find. "Say something else."
Iowyn stares at him.
"Anything. A threat. An insult. Tell me my stance is wrong." He pauses, adjusts his stance demonstratively. "It's not—my stance is perfect—but I want to see how you'd approach it."
"Caius."
"I'm testing her. This is a test." He's still circling, still watching. "I need to know if she'll panic when Senna starts—" He gestures broadly. "You know. Senna-ing. All the words. The implications. The looking down her nose. Very effective. I've considered killing her for it. Multiple times." He pats his chest, then frowns. "I have a list. Not on me—at home. In a drawer. Organized by method."
Whatever's in my face makes his expression shift. Just slightly. Just enough that I know he's adding this to his list of things to worry about later.
"Tomorrow at sundown," he says. "Faith's Neutral Hall. I assume you can manage not to start a war before we get through the agenda."
"No promises."
He nods, accepting this. His face shifts—serious, then pensive, then briefly alarmed.
"The seating chart," he mutters. "I had a seating chart. It was beautiful. Symmetrical. Color-coded." He holds up four fingers and stares at them. "I used four inks. FOUR. Now there's an extra person. That's an odd number. Odd numbers don't balance." He looks at me. "I'll have to kill someone to make it even again."
A pause.
"That was a joke. I think. I'm not sure anymore. The line gets blurry."
He looks at Iowyn. Back at me. Something shifts in his face. The tangents stop. The voice drops.
"If someone touches her at the Concord," he says, quieter now, almost gentle, "I won't wait for you. I'll just start. We can discuss the politics after. During the cleanup." He nods once. "I'm good at multitasking."
"I know."
"Good." He's already moving toward his desk. "I'm going to redraw the seating chart. Five inks this time. One for blood." He pauses at the door. "Hypothetical blood. Aspirational."
He points at Renan without looking.
"Your posture is terrible. Fix it. You look like a question mark."
And then he's gone.
"Renan," I say. "Walk with me."
I don't wait for a response. I move toward the door, and Iowyn falls into step beside me—not because I told her to, but because she knows.
Renan follows. His silence is the loud kind. He's waiting for something to break.
We make it three corridors from Caius's chambers before he does.
"You're bringing her to the Concord."
"Yes."
"Where every House head in the city will be staring at her."
"Yes."
"Where anyone who wants to hurt Discord can look at her and see exactly how to do it."
