Lucavion followed the glance up the slope.
Elias Selcourt had not moved from the Council's chair. Hands folded, posture easy, he owned the finest view on the whole platform. Lucavion had taken the seat for rank. Looking again, he was no longer sure rank was the reason.
He went through the afternoon in order, testing each step for give.
A chair placed where nothing could be missed. Alaric resisting in the open, clause by clause, loudly enough for the Council's president to catch every syllable. Lucien conceding each correction with a pleasant nod. And only after Elias had watched long enough to feel he understood the whole of it did the pledge arrive.
Elias's expression gave nothing away, and that was the tell. It stayed too even, and the evenness looked like work.
