The hall bowed in unison but Jian Ci did not. He stared at his father, jaw clenched, eyes burning with restrained fury. But before defiance could take shape, Jian Rui's hand pressed firmly on the back of his head, forcing him into a bow.
A quiet signal pulsed through Jian Ci's communicator—a warning that his psychic field was spiking. He was in the danger zone.
He exhaled through his teeth, forcing the storm back into its cage.
"Rise," Thaurion said, his voice smooth and commanding.
The hall obeyed, a sea of silks and polished boots lifting from their bows. Thaurion's gaze swept the room, regal and composed, before settling on Jian Ci. He smiled warm and radiant, the picture of paternal pride. It was the kind of smile that could fool a galaxy.
