A snort breaks from somewhere behind him.
“I know Teddy likes to find his way to the dance floor. Seren takes her clothes off,” he adds with a casual flick of his wrist.
Another snort.
Seren’s brows narrow in annoyance, but he doesn’t miss the way her lip quirks up. “That was one time,” she grouses.
“Memorable, though,” Ronyn retorts.
The tension cracks—just slightly. Exactly as intended. Ronyn’s grin widens.
“There we go,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “That’s better. Now, drink up, and show me what you’ve got. We’ll cast votes when sobriety is a thing of the past.”
He takes a swig of brask and winces just enough to make it entertaining.
“Gods, that’s foul,” he adds, offering the flask out toward the nearest poor soul. “Who brewed this? I’d like to have a word before the end of the world.”
Vren scoffs from the side. “You’re the one drinking it.”
Ronyn shoots him a look. “Desperation lowers standards, mate. I honestly thought your standards were non-existent with only a dozen of your lot remaining.”
A ripple of quiet laughter moves through the group. Not loud. Not carefree. But real.And that’s all he needs.
He shifts his stance slightly, angling himself so he can see more of them at once—tracking reactions, watching who loosens, who stays rigid, who hasn’t said a word. He notes it all. Because this isn’t just banter.It’s reconnaissance.
“All right,” he says, clapping his hands together once, sharp and decisive. “Let’s try this another way. Anyone herenotplanning to betray the rest of us at the worst possible moment?”
Silence.
“Define betrayal,” Calira says flatly from the edge of the cavern. “Political? Tactical? Emotional?”
“Gods, remind me never to let you organize a social gathering,” Ronyn quips.
Marin raises a brow. “No—define ‘worst possible moment.’”
Ronyn points at her immediately. “See, that’s exactly the kind of ambiguity that concerns me, ladies.”
Jax huffs something under her breath that might have been a laugh.Might. He catches it anyway. Stores it.
“It does seem like the sort of thing Marin would do,” Jax drawls, taking a swig from the flask.
Gods.
Always Jaxxy.
Marin rolls her eyes. “Coming from the woman who sold out her own kingdom after being bedded. Must’ve been great inbed to make you squeal, Jax. Or are you just that easy?” Marin taunts.
Jax’s hand flies to the dagger at her thigh.
But Marin doesn’t stop. “What did he promise you, Jax? A crown?”
Okay, this took a turn.
Time to change it up.
“You know…” Ronyn begins, “I actually thought you two would get along. You seem like kindred spirits of a sort.” He wags his finger between the two women, hoping to diffuse, or at least distract them.
Jax crosses her arms.
