Lucien didn't extend his hand.
Neither did Lucavion.
They simply regarded one another across the table—two still points in a room wound taut with ceremony, pride, and unspoken threats. The silence between them was not awkward. It was deliberate. Calculated.
They both knew the gesture was expected. The rules of court dictated that someone offer—even if it was only for show. But Lucien didn't move. And Lucavion?
He was already miles past gestures.
So Lucien let the breach remain.
Instead, he took a single step to the side, placing himself just slightly closer—not encroaching, but making the space intimate. Measured.
"I'll be brief," he said, tone steady, "for once."
Lucavion's lip twitched—only slightly.
Lucien ignored it. Or perhaps registered it and chose not to react. His eyes, crimson and perfectly unreadable, flicked toward Rowen for the briefest moment—acknowledging his presence without giving him weight—then returned to Lucavion.
