Aldric
"Apparently, our daughter prefers women."
I watched it land. I watched her face — the way her brows came down into the small, immediate frown of someone receiving information that doesn't fit what they know. I nodded, letting it settle in. I held my cup out slightly, and chuckled.
"I was very surprised too," I said.
Irina shook her head. "That can't be true," she said.
I shrugged. My lips pressed together, even, noncommittal. "I’m just as surprised as you are."
She stared. The information was still sitting in the air between us, unprocessed, too new to know what to do with it.
Almost immediately, a knock, and the door came open. The senior maid — twelve years in this house, absolute discretion, knows exactly when to appear and when to become invisible. She greeted me with her customary composure, and then turned to Irina with a genuine smile, warm and unperformative.
"Welcome home, my Queen. We're so glad you're back."
"Irina." I set down my glass. "I know this is a lot to sit with. We'll talk about Lyra properly when you've had some rest." I gave her a mild look. "But for now, you need to sleep. And you need to—" I paused, and breathed in through my nose, quite casually.
I looked at her.
"—wash up all that stench on you."
The air between us changed.
I held her eyes. I held them for exactly the right amount of time — long enough that she understood what I'd done, not long enough to force her to respond to it. Then I nodded, once, with the patient understanding.
Irina was absolutely still.
She swallowed.
Then she nodded, and followed the maid out of the room without looking back. The door closed behind them.
I stood where I was and didn't move.

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