“Indeed, it is, Baronet Valtosh. I was just about to remark so with Lord Maltos’s son--the one that lived, that is.”
“Speaking with him?” The apparent Valtosh says, gesturing vaguely in my direction. “Didn’t he break a mug over the head of your third cousin last spring?”
A few nearby nobles shift, their interest sharpening. Kholara smiles faintly. The trap is closing around me.
“I am sure that it was a simple misunderstanding,” he replies smoothly, though his eyes and tone suggest he thinks otherwise. Valtosh sees it, as do the gathered nobles.
“Really? I would have thought you’d believe differently,” Valtosh says, looking back at me. “Given the rumors of his manic streak.”
There it is. The room tightens. I feel the rage building but hold it down. This is Kholara’s game, Valtosh is just a piece on the board…
Yet all I wish to do is cut him into quivering lumps.
“Which rumors would those be?” I ask, surprised at how calm my voice seems.
The royal’s lips curve.
“Oh, you know,” he says. “Unpredictable. Volatile. Apt to losing control.”
Each word lands clean. Textbook courtly jibes and insults delivered in a veneer of polish.
I don’t move. Don’t react. Not yet.
“I didn’t know those of royal lineage had the time for rumormongering,” I reply.
A soft laugh ripples through the immediate space. Valtosh tilts their head.
“Oh, but sometimes rumors can have a kernel of truth in them, can they not?” they ask. “Or is it perhaps, that the rumors are not rumors at all but boldfaced facts?”
Kholara is watching. Closely. Not Valtosh, who is clearly a puppet dancing on his strings.
Me. He’s watching me. There’s a pattern here.A rhythm. This isn’t spontaneous. It’s structured. Each word building on the last. Each reaction expected and planned for.
A setup. And there’s no way out of it but through.
“Accuracy depends on perspective,” I say.
“And yours?” the royal presses.
“My perspective,” I reply, “is that you’re speaking a great deal without saying anything of value.”
A sharper reaction this time. A few murmurs. The royal’s smile tightens.
“Careful,” he says softly. “That almost sounded like the words of a man about to lose control.”
“Did it?” I take a step closer. Not aggressive. Not yet. Just enough to shift the balance.
“It sounded like honesty,” I continue. “Though I know that Kholara doesn’t traffic in such trifles.”
The air shifts. Tension threads through it now. Real. Not just anticipation. Kholara’s gaze sharpens.
I can feel it. The edge of disaster. The moment where it either dissipates?—
Or escalates.
The royal’s expression changes.
“Well,” they say, voice cooling, “perhaps your anger has caused you to lose perspective of what is true, and what is merely…illusion.”
