Vencian held his glass of wine and smiled through another conversation he wasn't tracking.
Lord Tamerin was talking about grain exports. Or maybe it was tax reform. The words blurred together, polite and endless. Vencian nodded at what seemed like appropriate intervals and took small sips to fill the silence.
"Wouldn't you agree, Lord Vicorra?"
Vencian blinked. "Absolutely."
Tamerin beamed. "I knew you'd understand. So few young nobles grasp the importance of regional trade policy."
Vencian had no idea what he'd agreed to. He smiled anyway.
A hand slipped through his arm.
"Forgive me, Lord Tamerin." Aline appeared at his side, her grip firm. "I need to borrow my cousin for a moment."
Tamerin opened his mouth to protest, but Aline was already steering Vencian away.
They crossed the hall, weaving between clusters of nobles. Vencian exhaled.
"Thank you."
"You're terrible at this," Aline said.
"I was managing."
