Quinlan held the King of Vraven's gaze across the frost for what felt like an eternity.
The two men measured each other, both having a great deal to say.
Then Alexios's gaze moved to Ayame, and for a moment the king looked older than the centuries behind him.
"We have a lot to discuss." His voice carried only to the three of them. "In private."
Quinlan didn't respond.
His attention moved to Ayame, to the hand resting on her katana and the composure she'd rebuilt mere seconds ago.
If she wanted to demand answers from the man who signed her into chains right here, in front of nearly every faction on the continent, he was ready to let her even if it would cost him as far as politics went.
Ayame's grip tightened on the hilt for a breath that stretched long enough for Alexios to notice.
Then she gave the king a short nod.
Non-allies were listening. Whatever Alexios had to say, giving it away for free would be foolish.
Quinlan's smile returned as his gaze found the king's.
