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Yure finally looked away from the code. “Oh, I can see him.” He tapped two keys. “There.”
One of the feeds shifted. The camera zoomed down the tower plaza. Kylix and the guards appeared back on the screen, still standing across from the tall glass tower where Concordant had been put up. The rest of his team was spread through the plaza outside.
Even through the grainy surveillance angle, he looked exactly like himself. Moody. Patient. Hands behind his back as he faced the tower entrance.
Helianth leaned closer. “That’s live?”
“Close enough.”
Helianth squinted at the feed. “Can we see the upper levels?”
Yure shook his head. “No, we’ve got the plaza. Not the inside. That breaches the privacy law.”
Moargan’s eyes stayed locked on the screen. “So why the fuck aren’t they coming out to meet him? They are guests on Helion. If Father gave the word, I’d have them dragged out of that tower by their throats.”
“Yeah, well, not these guests.” Helianth tipped his chin toward the screen. “They’re under direct Imperial protection. And we know why Father made that decision.”
Moargan went still for a second, fury tightening his face. But he let Cyprian drag a hand through his hair and murmur something low against his ear, the touch taking just enough of the edge off.
Yure leaned back in his chair. “They’re making him wait on purpose.”
Daven’s gaze stayed on the screen. “Why?”
Yure shrugged, but his eyes stayed on the feeds. “Because the meeting was never the real event.”
Ryneth frowned slightly. “You think they’re moving somewhere else?”
“That,” Yure said, “or they’re waiting for something to finish.”
Aviel flicked something in the pan behind them. “Professionals don’t stall unless it buys them something.”
“Professionals also don’t lock themselves in a tower while the Luminary waits outside,” Helianth muttered. He sprawled across a bar stool, his long legs stretched out. “If Kylix had taken me, we’d already be inside.”
“You had an exam. Father would have killed you personally.” Moargan’s mouth twitched as he reached into the cooler and tossed another beer across the island.
Helianth caught it one-handed. “An exam,” he repeated, sulking. “Yes. Because thermal mechanics is clearly more important than a Concordant delegation infiltrating Helion.”
Aviel barked a laugh. “Cry harder, Helianth. Maybe Kylix will hear you all the way from the plaza.”
“Please,” Helianth muttered. “At least he’d invite me along.”
Aviel leaned back against the counter and crooked two fingers without looking. “Come here, baby. Be useful.”
Theo appeared at his side almost immediately, pale curls catching the kitchen lights. With that same serene expression he always wore, he slipped behind Aviel and draped his arms loosely around his waist, resting his chin on Aviel’s shoulder like he belonged there.
Aviel’s hand came back automatically, gripping Theo’s wrist for a moment before letting him slide down to the ground and out of sight. “Better,” he murmured.
Taking a long drink, Daven let his gaze drift across the room.
At the far end of the island, Ryneth stood beside Cyprian, bent over one of Cyprian’s sketch slates while Mirel hovered nearby, silent as always.
Daven watched the way Ryneth’s shoulders moved when he laughed softly at something Cyprian said.
His grip tightened around the bottle.
Mine.
Behind them, Yure swore under his breath.
