“Soon,” he replies. “You will attend.”
Not a question.
“Of course.” I bow my head respectfully.
His gaze lingers.
“You will not embarrass me.”
I meet his eyes.
“I will not.”
A long silence, then…
“We’ll see,” Valloa murmurs.
I ignore her. But the words settle anyway.
A gathering.
Court.
Public.
Visible.
My thoughts move ahead of the moment, mapping possibilities without effort. Kholara doesn’t host without purpose. Not something like this.
“Who’s hosting?” I ask.
Maltos studies me for a moment.
Then—
“Kholara.”
The name settles into place like a blade locking into its sheath. My shoulders remain still, but everything else sharpens. That Kholara bothers me. He smiles too widely, laughs at my jokes too readily. As if he seeks to put me at ease.
Which means I must be doubly careful.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Isn’t it?” Valloa replies.
I don’t look at her again.
I don’t need to.
“Be prepared,” Maltos says. “Your behavior is a reflection on me and this house.”
The implication hangs between us.
I incline my head once.
“I will be.”
“Good.”
