The grand chamber in Valerius's mansion was all shadows and firelight, the tall iron candelabras casting jagged shapes across the black stone walls. The air smelled faintly of smoke, aged wine, and old secrets. At the head of the table stood Valerius, his posture severe, one hand resting on the carved wood as though anchoring himself.

Opposite him, Lucius sprawled in his chair with practiced laziness, though his amber eyes tracked every move in the room. Melara sat straight-backed, draped in ...