Serathine set her empty glass on the side table with a soft click that still managed to sound like a final word. "Well then. We'll speak to Caelan."
Cressida rose with regal ease, smoothing the lilac folds of her gown into place. "We'll tell him what he needs to hear. What he wants to hear," she added, eyes glinting, "but nothing more."
Lucas frowned faintly. "You're sure it'll work?"
Cressida glanced at Serathine. "He owes us both favors. Old ones. Large ones."
"And if he doesn't remember," Serathine said, plucking her gloves from the arm of her chair, "we'll remind him. Politely, of course. With citations."
Lucas blinked. "You're going to cite your debts?"
Cressida smiled, all pearls and sharp edges. "With interest."
Lucas didn't press. He had no doubt they would get what they wanted, and do it in a way that Caelan wouldn't recover from for months.
