"Then let's see what kind of history you've decided to hide underground."
The man walking beside Selara did not answer.
That was wise of him.
They left the tower through a side passage rather than the main entrance, which already told her enough. Aurevane adored ceremony when ceremony helped it shine. If they were avoiding marble stairs, reception desks, and public corridors, it meant they did not want anyone asking why Director Selara was being escorted back toward the Glass Atrium by administrative guards.
The route curved through a covered walkway of pale stone and dark glass. Outside, Aurevane carried on with its usual expensive performance: carriages moving between venues, scholars crossing plazas with assistants at their heels, banners snapping softly in the morning wind. Everything above ground looked polished, scheduled, harmless.
Selara had never trusted harmless things that required this many guards.
