“You mobilized first.”
“I responded to evidence.”
“You shaped it.”
His expression does not change.
“You suspect manipulation,” he says mildly.
“I observe it.”
He folds his hands calmly in front of him. “Then allow me to demonstrate good faith. Meet with me. Neutral coordinates. Limited escort.”
Jhor’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “A trap,” he mutters.
Valen’s eyes flick briefly toward the sound, though he cannot see Jhor beyond the projection’s frame.
“You fear I will detain you,” Valen says.
“I expect it,” I reply.
He smiles slightly. “Then bring your League companion. She may find the discussion illuminating.”
The chamber stills completely.
“You know she is here,” I say.
“I know many things.”
There it is. The acknowledgment. The subtle reminder that nothing we do is unseen.
“Send coordinates,” I say at last.
Valen inclines his head again. “I look forward to productive discourse, Clan Leader.”
The transmission cuts cleanly.
Silence expands to fill the chamber.
“He wants her present,” Varek says slowly.
“Yes.”
“He wants legitimacy.”
“Yes.”
Jhor bares his teeth. “He wants leverage.”
“Yes.”
I study the coordinates as they appear on the display. Border space. Close enough to Alliance patrol lines that retreat would be complicated.
“You suspect a trap,” Varek says.
“I assume one,” I reply.
“Will you go?”
