She turned to look at him.
Her eyes had lost the ambient male-register neutrality and were doing something sharp and private and considerably more than she'd intended to show.
"Take it," he said. "It's what you came for."
"How—" She stopped. "How do you know about the lineage."
"It's your sword," he said. "The sealed one. I've been watching its resonance since you entered the portal. It's been pointing at this wall for two layers." A pause. "I was curious what it would find."
The princess had been very quiet.
She had been quiet since they entered the terminal chamber, which was unusual—Wei Lingyue's default operating mode was analytical, and analytical people in unfamiliar environments generated questions. Her quiet had a different quality. She was standing approximately three feet to Cang's left, and she was—
Looking at him.
Not the walls. Not the crown. Not the shadow sword.
Him.
