Relos Var reached for his drink. “Obviously.”

Beside me, Senera relaxed. People moved on to other conversational topics. Politics. Gossip. What might be done to undermine the empire’s control. I should have been paying better attention, but I couldn’t focus.

I felt sick. They had to be lying. I had grown up under Xaltorath’s tender care. I knew the sorts of lies that could be wielded like daggers to nick and cut and bleed. I also knew the truth could be used to rip open the same veins. And truth was a far easier blade to sharpen.

“Don’t let them see it bother you,” someone whispered.

I looked over. One of the black-clad royals had spoken. The bald one.

“They thrive on the pain they cause,” he said. “It feeds them. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

“They? Aren’t you one of them?”

His mouth quirked. “I’m nothing like them.” He wasn’t looking at me. The voices around us created a din. Yet somehow, I still heard his whisper. “My name is Thurvishar D’Lorus. I’ll try to help if I can, but don’t rely on it. My hands are tied in many ways.”

“Which house is D’Lorus—”

“Books. We run the Academy.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t say anything more. The Academy. A school, yes, but I’d been able to hear the capital letter. The wizard’s school in Kirpis.

I glanced at him sideways. I couldn’t tell his age. He had the sort of chiseled face that looks old when young and young when old. When he glanced in Relos Var’s direction, I saw his eyes matched his dress. Black, the color of mystery. Outside of Jorat, also the color of magic.

Whatever his Royal House colors, he probably just wanted to share the thrill of humiliating the newest addition to court. Thurvishar D’Lorus was just cleverer about it than Darzin D’Mon.

When Senera and I left, the men stayed to share drinks and swap outrageous stories. I didn’t notice the nasty old woman had vanished from her place at the fire.

But it wouldn’t have meant anything to me even if I had.

“It’s a little like eating with a pack of wolves, isn’t it?” Senera said later as we returned to the room. “They snap and wrestle and try to push themselves in each other’s way. They all want to be favorites when Kaen overthrows the empire, each with their own dominion to rule. Idiots.”

I didn’t respond. We kept walking.

She stopped in the hallway and turned to face me. “I’ve studied Joratese culture enough to understand ‘noble blood’ isn’t a requirement for ruling. Don’t your people always say the proof of blood is in deeds? Even if you’re adopted, it doesn’t change anything.”