That’s not?—
My jaw tightens.
Not true.
But it doesn’t matter.
“Stand aside,” he orders.
I step back, heart pounding hard enough I can feel it in my throat.
The overseer tosses the trowel into the dirt like it’s worthless.
“Replace it,” he says to no one in particular. “And fix the section before dusk. If it isn’t corrected?—”
He doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t have to.
“You’re pissing on the wrong fire, Overseer.”
The voice is quieter. Older. I feel relief wash over me, because I know that voice. Skot. The lord’s half brother and estate seneshel--and the only Elf who has ever shown a human even a smidge of consideration, let alone kindness. At least, the only one I’ve ever met.
I look up, blinking nervous sweat out of my eyes.
Skot stands just off the path, hands folded neatly in front of him. His posture is unassuming, almost deferential—but his eyes are sharp, taking in everything. His house colors are muted, as if trying to look in place, but also knowing his place.
The overseer glances at him, irritation flickering. Skot wields a lot of temporal power over the estate, mostly because the nobles can’t be bothered with such trivia. Not to mention, he plays the Game--the constant courtly skirmishing for positionand influence--quite well, even if he will never rise above his humble station.
“The tools we were provided are clearly substandard,” Skot continues smoothly. “I’ll see to it they’re replaced. It would be inefficient to punish labor for a supply issue. Don’t you agree, Overseer?”
The overseer hesitates. Skot’s tone is polite, yet lined with steel. Half breed or not, he can make life difficult for the Overseer.
“…Fine,” he says finally, waving a hand. “Fix it.”
He moves on, trying to pretend he wasn’t just thoroughly cowed and manipulated by the half breed seneschel. .
The pressure in my chest loosens just enough that I can breathe again.
Skot steps closer, just within the edge of my vision.
“Miss Cutter,” he says quietly.
“Yes?”
“Be more mindful of the tools you’re given, please,” he says without rancor.
There’s something under the words. Not quite a warning. Not quite kindness.
I nod.
“Yes, sir.”
His gaze lingers for half a second longer, then he turns and follows the overseer down the path.
I exhale slowly.
Around me, the others shift back into motion. Fenrix brushes past my shoulder, just enough to make it clear he could have hit harder.
