Anger would have been useful. Anger gives a male something to work with. Interest is harder. Interest means he’s thinking. It means he’s noticed something. It means he’s decided a question is worth pursuing. And Kazren is interested.
“Little brother.”
He doesn’t move aside. The corridor is exactly narrow enough that one of us will have to give way, and we both know it won’t be him until he’s finished with whatever this is.
His formal blacks fit perfectly, cut to accommodate the broader build that comes with being firstborn. Our colouring is similar enough that nobody would mistake us for anything but brothers, but where my scales catch the light in copper and bronze, his run darker, closer to burnished mahogany. The patterning along his throat and jaw is sharper too, giving him a harder look than mine ever managed. Not that he needs the help.
“You’ve been difficult to find.”
“I’ve been working.”
“You’ve been somewhere.”
His amber eyes travel over me slowly. “You look tired. You used to hide that better.”
I keep my expression neutral. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You’ve become easier to read.”
The smile never leaves his face. That’s the problem. Kazren smiles when he’s amused, when he’s angry, when he’s deciding whether to ruin someone’s life. The expression means nothing on its own — you have to watch the slight narrowing of his pupils, the stillness in his shoulders, the fact that he still hasn’t stepped aside. He’s hunting.
“I miss the performances,” he says. “The flirting. The pretty version of you who worked the floor and made every mark feel special.”
My jaw tightens, and the smile widens. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for me.
“Lately you move through these halls like a male carrying something heavy.”
“You’re mistaking exhaustion for mystery.”
“Am I?”
“At your age, it’s understandable.”
I suppress a sigh. Father taught us both the same lessons — never strike at the first weakness. Wait for the one they can’t afford to defend.
“I’ve been wondering what’s keeping you occupied.” His fingers brush the cuff of one sleeve.
“I’ve been busy keeping your network from bleeding out.”
A soft laugh escapes him. “My network.” He rolls the words around as though tasting them. “Listen to you.”
He steps closer. Not enough to challenge. Enough to remind. Kazren wears authority the way other males wear jewellery — casually,effortlessly, as though it belongs to him by natural law rather than birth order.
“The contractor audit is still running, by the way. Father’s designation review.”
My stomach tightens — not because of the audit. Because he mentioned it. I’ve spent most of my life learning which details matter and which don’t. Kazren doesn’t waste words when he’s fishing.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in records this week,” he continues.
I say nothing.
“Yours are very tidy. Maintenance schedules. Ventilation reports. Routine inspections.” His gaze settles on mine. “Nothing anyone would think twice about.”
My pulse kicks once. Not hard. Enough. He’s watching for it, and I know because I’m doing exactly the same thing to him.
“I run a tidy operation.”
“You do.”
