His gaze lifts, finding me as if by accident though I know better. There it is. That flicker of recognition…no, anticipation. He knew exactly when I’d see him. Of course he did.
“Verginyon,” he calls, voice carrying just enough to draw attention without demanding it. “You’ve arrived at last. And how does this evening find our young heir?”
I stop. Turn fully now. Let the space open between us.
“Lord Kholara.” My gaze flicks over his garment. “I like your garb. Understated, as usual.”
His smile widens, ignoring my verbal barb. That’s another warning as sure as a rattletail snake’s distinctive percussion.
“You honor me.” He bows his head slightly.
“Do I?” I ask, my tone cold but hellfires raging in my gaze. I can’t stop it all from showing. There's so very much.
A few nearby nobles shift, their attention sharpening. He takes a step closer, closing part of the distance—but not all of it. Careful. Always careful. He plays the Game well.
“I was beginning to think you might avoid the gathering,” he says.
“Why would I?”
A tilt of his head.
“Some find public scrutiny…uncomfortable.”
There it is. Subtle. A test. I let the silence stretch just long enough to make it noticeable.
Then—
“Only if they have something to hide.” My gaze never wavers. “Or someone to hide from.”
His smile tightens.
Good.
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “And you?”
I step forward. Close the rest of the distance.
“I don’t hide. I run toward trouble, not away from it.”
That’s not entirely true. But it’s true enough for him. His eyes flick over me, searching for something. A crack. A tell. He won’t find one. Not tonight.
“Good,” he says. “I would hate for this evening to be…disappointing.”
I hold his gaze. “It won’t be.”
A pause. Something passes between us. Unspoken yet as tangible as the stones beneath our feet.
“Ah,” Kholara says lightly, glancing past me. “Perfect timing.”
I don’t turn immediately. I don’t need to. I feel the shift in the room before I see it. The way attention moves. The way space opens. Royal. Of course. I turn. Slow and deliberate.
A member of the royal line approaches—young, a distant cousin, but just connected enough to be important. Dressed in layered black and silver, their posture just slightly too relaxed for someone with that much power behind their name.
Their gaze lands on me. Lingers. Then slides to Kholara.
“Quite the gathering,” he says.
Kholara inclines his head.
