"Come on, you little shit! Answer, dammit!"
Killian was pacing inside the rarely used cubicle, glaring down at his terminal as if sheer willpower could make his brother pick up. His pulse pounded in his ears. His parents. His parents. Why were they here?!
They were never ones to attend events like this.
Not because they lacked desire for social or trade gatherings. No, the truth was worse. The mere presence of the Nox Patriarch and his wife would crush an event beneath the weight of formality, expectation, and political obligation.
It was the same awkward dilemma that faced the Imperial family. They often longed to attend auctions and galas like ordinary people, but couldn't.
Because if the Emperor and Empress ever showed up in person, the ripple effects were catastrophic.
Security demands would skyrocket tenfold. Formality would smother the air. Preparation would balloon into weeks instead of days.
