And one number punches me in the gut: the tribute outflow has nearly doubled since I was sentenced.
I keep my face neutral, but inside something cold blooms.
Because tribute doesn’t rise unless someone is squeezing.
Unless someone is draining the family.
Unless someone is steering.
Kel notices my glance and stiffens. “Do not look at that.”
I look at it anyway.
Jordan follows my gaze, eyes narrowing. “What is that?”
“Nothing,” Kel says too fast.
Glar laughs softly. “It’s everything.”
I turn back to Kel, voice quiet now, dangerous in its restraint. “You’ve been paying them that much?”
Kel’s eyes flash. “It is the cost of stability.”
“No,” I say. “It’s the cost of obedience.”
Kel’s mask hisses faintly, like it’s offended by my tone. “You will not audit those accounts.”
Audit.
The word lands like a dare.
I nod once, slow. “Sure.”
Kel’s eyes narrow. “Sure?”
“Sure,” I repeat, smooth as oil.
Jordan looks between us, confused and furious. “You’re just… accepting this?”
I lean slightly toward her, voice low enough that only she can hear. “No.”
Her eyes widen. “Then what are you doing?”
“Buying time,” I murmur.
Kel leans back slightly, tension easing by a fraction as he believes he’s reasserted control. “Good,” he says. “Then we understand each other.”
Glar steps closer, looking up at me with amusement that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome back to the family, Lonari. We’ve missed your… discipline.”
I stare down at him. “Get out of my air.”
Glar’s smile never wavers. “Careful. You’re not in the wilderness anymore.”
I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch until it becomes uncomfortable.
Then Kel speaks again, voice final. “Jordan stays here until we decide what to do with her.”
Jordan stiffens. “Excuse me?—”
