I sat on the high table, the carved obsidian seat cool beneath me, the velvet cushion doing little to ease the ache. Before me sat the nobles, a sea of titles and scents: Dukes, Marquises, Counts, Viscounts, Barons, their eyes sharp and predatory.
The air thrummed with Alpha musk, the chamber feeling like a cage of dominant beasts waiting for a weak link.
Documents lay scattered before me—trade reports, border disputes, supply requests—the kind of files my father, Lirien, would have devoured without blinking. Papa knows these things like breathing, I thought. But I have to learn, even though I'm not from this world.
My assassin instincts told me to watch their faces, not just the words.
The flicker of a jaw, a tightened fist, a subtle shift in posture—those were the secrets no scroll could reveal. I leaned forward, the veil hiding my wince, the pain in my legs sharp but bearable.
