I let that sit exactly where he put it and do not touch it.
"I killed Mysin last night," I say.
"I suspected you would."
"The soraka poison was a nice touch."
"I thought you might like that."
A brief pause.
"My council has raised concerns about the Baron," he continues. "His ships have not docked. His coffers remain sealed." Hisfingers tap once against the edge of his goblet. "And somehow all of his holdings now bear your name."
"I do not wish to discuss matters of record without Colsar present."
A slight movement at his mouth. "His name is not on the documents. Yours is."
Silence holds between us.
"And I cannot help but wonder," he says, quieter now, "if you read through them carefully. There was a reason I tolerated him as long as I did. It is not simply coffers the Baron holds. It is power. And if he is dead, it is yours." A pause. "If he is not?—"
He lets it trail off.
I hold his eyes. “Then I suppose he should be careful.”
Something moves through his expression that I don’t entirely dislike.
Sevrin watches Kiss in my arms. "May I?" he asks.
The question holds between us.
I hesitate only briefly, then step forward. I place her in his arms. He takes her carefully, far more carefully than I anticipated, his attention fixing entirely on her. His posture changes slightly, as though the rest of the room no longer matters.
She studies him, her eyes curious. Her small fingers curl against his chest. Something in his expression moves in a way I have not seen before.
His hand shifts slightly, as though he might reach for me.
He doesn’t.
Then the door opens.
I feel Colsar immediately. The air pulls tight with his presence.
Sevrin goes still.
I turn. Colsar’s eyes move from me to the child in his brother’s arms, and whatever control he walked in with fractures immediately.
He crosses the room in three strides and takes her without a word.
She does not cry. She turns into him, her small hands gripping his collar as though nothing has changed.
His jaw locks hard enough that I hear the grind of his teeth.
“Asharin,” he says. My name is low, edged, leaving no room for delay.
I follow him out. We walk down the corridor in silence until we reach our chambers. The door closes behind us, and the moment it does, he turns. “Why the fuck would you let him hold our daughter?”
“Because he asked,” I say.
