“You look well. Paler than usual, though,” she added, gaze raking down the Sokâr’s figure. “For days now, your skin’s been so wonderfully flushed. We were beginning to think His Quintessence had finally taken an interest in the virtues of rest.”
A pause.
Then, sharply sweet, “It must be such a comfort, staying with him. You hardly look tired at all.”
The Attendants tittered, lips half-covered in performative modesty.
Auryn kept her Sokâr's mask firmly in place.
“Zeera,” she began as though emerging from some deep thought. “Have you no concern about the attack that took place here some days past?”
The chamber stilled again.
Auryn stepped forward, only once, to remind everyone who held the center of the room.
“This is, after all, your only home. When you visitOur Jade Lattice, We are glad to welcome you as aguest. But you must take care to keep order here, where you have support and protection.”
Zeera’s face tightened.
“And as forOurResh’Agar,” Auryn added, lifting one hand with imperious ease, “We believe he may speak for himself.”
She turned her palm toward the chamber’s edge.
Only then did Zeera follow her gaze.
Kailorien stood in the archway, shadow-cut and silent. He had entered without a sound, but every eye was on him now.
He still hadn’t pushed back his hood, but even from across the chamber, the glow of his eyes was unmistakable.
Andthey were fixed on Zeera.
The silence hung thick until Zeera stepped forward, her clothes whispering against the polished marble. Her scent preceded her; today, a heady blend of violet root and blue orchid, soft spice coiled with honeyed smoke. It was the kind of perfume that clung to the throat. The kind meant tolinger in memory.
She smiled as she crossed to Kailorien, her head tilted just so, like a question with teeth.
“Your Quintessence,” she drawled, her voice languid and coy. “How wonderful that the Void has blessed us with your gaze today.”
She stopped just short of him. Not touching, but close enough that her breath brushed the edge of his cloak.
“I had not expected to find you in the Prismatum,” she continued, voice lilting with suggestion. “Much less…attending your Sokâr as she sees to her duties.”
Her gaze flicked to Auryn before sliding back to him.
“You have been absent from the Companions’ Wing for so long. We had all begun to worry. One might almost think you were otherwise…occupied.”
It was a blade, sheathed in false concern.
A challenge, cloaked in courtesy.
Atest.
Kailorien didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His gaze—shadowed beneath his hood—settled on Zeera with absolute stillness. Not the hesitation of a man uncertain how to respond. The certainty of a predatordeciding whether to let her walk away in one piece.
Behind her, Auryn hadn’t spoken. Zeera’s words hadn’t bruised. If anything, they’d clarified her standing.
Zeera waited. Her body poised, her voice honeyed, her breath measured to the second. But Kailorien still didn’t answer. His gaze didn’t waver, not even when Auryn approached, silent, elegant, a study in composed sovereignty.
The chamber watched with bated breath. The Sokâr’s steps echoed like rain drops across the polished floor, each one calm and deliberate. The scent of her skin—cool jasmine and fire ember laced with dragon blood—met the last traces of Zeera’s heavy perfume andoverrode it, like a shower of rain cutting through the burn of a hot day.
