Saten's smile hardened into something colder, teeth just barely hidden behind polite words.
"And I also demand that boy apologize to me," he said, voice honeyed but lethal. "If he refuses… well. Let us say the whole council will hear of this disgrace. It will be a stain on your house before all the lords and ladies present."
Garius's smirk remained unreadable, calm, small, and utterly certain.
"Very well." He inclined his head once, almost bored.
"Alf."
"Yes, my lord?" Alf answered, stepping forward with the practiced deference of someone who moved mountains with a bow.
"Tell Javier to come here."
"As you command, my lord." Alf bowed more deeply, then melted through the press of people, moving with that silent, purposeful stride only a trusted servant possessed.
The nobles exchanged furtive glances; some masks slipped into thin smiles of anticipation, others into worry. Marcellus, Cedric, Aelius, Athine and Heres watched impassively, their posture unchanged, ready, composed.
