Roderic's hand stayed still against the arm of the chair, though only for a moment. Then his fingers moved again, whatever had escaped him retreated behind the composure he had brought into the room. Valttair noticed anyway.
Roderic met his gaze and waited, since he had no intention of guessing the name on Valttair's behalf.
"You said there was a name. Say it then."
"Esmond." Valttair let the word rest between them. "That name means something to you."
The room did not change, though for Roderic the conversation did. Esmond had spent close to a century beneath Vaelion on bloodline work that should never have left controlled rooms, and the records of it sat among the things his family preferred forgotten. After Aurevane, Roderic had spent years hunting the old alchemist and come away with nothing.
"Judging by your reaction, it does. It would be strange if it didn't."
None of it surfaced on Roderic's face while he weighed what Valttair had put on the table.
