Duke Ephesians's lips curved in a cold smile that never reached his eyes. "Your cunning won't save you, Minister. You may believe you're cleverly reading the room, but I suggest you read it more carefully before my patience expires."
The Duke's fingers drummed once against the table—a gesture that might have seemed casual but caused Lord Veralis to subtly lean away, suggesting its significance as a warning.
"What we want is simple," the Duke continued, his voice deceptively gentle. "Where is the Archon of Lysora?"
Salomonis straightened, his demeanor shifting slightly as he visibly gathered himself. Though his expression remained neutral, those with magical sensitivity might have detected a subtle readjustment of energies around him—like a swordsman loosening his blade in its scabbard.
