“About that.” Harlow tilted his head toward the hall in unmistakable command.
Kira shot a look at the children to find Ziva watching her with a cautious expression that seemed to say she was willing to throw herself into the breach if that’s what Kira should require.
Against all odds, the expression made a smile form on Kira’s lips.
She appreciated the girl’s bravery, but she hadn’t fallen so far that she required a child’s rescue.
Though if she ever did, Ziva and Elena would be the ones she’d call for help.
Kira didn’t pay much attention to those they passed as Harlow escorted them through halls that felt ancient. As if these passageways had existed for time immemorial and would continue to do so for millennia to come.
The home of House Roake suited its inhabitants, possessing an austerity that still managed to be impressive. It held a simple beauty that Kira didn’t think she’d ever take for granted.
The best part was the balance of the fortress’s defensive features and the offensive capabilities she knew it hid.
It would exact a steep price from any who tried to breach its walls.
Perhaps that’s why Kira felt a sense of safety even with an escort that made her feel like she was being marched to the gallows.
They climbed several flights of stairs before turning right down a hallway Kira wasn’t familiar with.
Ahead, a massive wooden door loomed.
It reminded Kira in some ways of Himoto’s office door. Not in looks—Himoto’s office door had been metal and average sized—but rather in the way it engendered the twin feelings of nervousness and a desire to leave the best impression on the one waiting inside.
Harlow reached the door, flinging it open before gesturing for Kira to go ahead.
With only the smallest sign of hesitation, Kira steeled her spine and stepped inside to find the room already occupied.
“What’s this?” Kira shot Harlow a suspicion-filled look as her uncle brushed past her.
Harlow moved toward the ancient looking desk waiting in a place of importance. Its surface covered in nicks and scars, evidence of its long history.
Comfortable looking chairs were scattered in front of the desk, each one inhabited by a Tuann.
Graydon winked at her. Caius lounged in the chair next to him.
Kira’s gaze moved on, taking in Makon’s respectful nod as Wren walked over to one of the few empty chairs.
In addition to Makon and Caius, Kira was also familiar with the other Tuann present.
“Silas, Maida.”
Silas was one of the very few Tuann that Kira had met who showed even the faintest signs of age. Crow’s feet lingered at the corners of his eyes, giving credence to the weight of centuries contained within his gaze.
He had a gentle demeanor. Quiet in a way that said he would listen to your troubles.
He inspired trust—even in someone like Kira. There was just something about him. Like he cared.
It made him very good at his role as an advisor in Roake.
Maida was his opposite. At first glance appearing to play the role of seductive temptress, clad in a few pieces of cloth held together by chains. The breast plate she wore was more ornamental than functional. There for appearances only.
But Kira knew her to be an accomplished warrior. One of Harlow’s most trusted.
Since they’d met during Kira’s training period prior to the uhva na, Kira had learned that Maida had quite the reputation.
Many outside of Roake feared her. Such was her fame that they’d even given her a name. The Red Witch.
