Gerard remained standing in the center of Cyran's office as though sitting would somehow diminish his importance.
The room was warm despite the snow beyond the tall windows, its dark wood panels broken by shelves of government records and narrow channels of gold ether running beneath the stone floor. Cyran had barely occupied the office long enough to leave anything personal behind, so the space still looked more institutional than lived in.
Arik had moved away from the window and taken one of the armchairs near the conference table, his cream jacket open over a pale shirt. He looked comfortable enough to be insulting.
Marius noticed.
Gerard did not.
"I crossed half the continent," Gerard said, pulling one glove from his hand with unnecessary force, "and instead of receiving me as a king, I am brought directly into an administrative office."
Arik rested an elbow against the chair.
"You arrived without an invitation."
"I informed your border officials."
