He was wrong. Because Gregoris didn't say, 'Send them away.'
Gregoris said, calm and flat, "Open the gate."
Rafael blinked. "What?"
Gregoris didn't explain. His fingers moved over the tablet, and the manor's ether lattice responded immediately, the permission rippling outward through the wards like a pulse, the perimeter shifting from denial to controlled access.
On the front gate feed, the three men straightened as if they'd been waiting for that exact instruction. The one hiding behind the pillar stepped into view. The one studying the shrub abruptly remembered the concept of forward-facing posture. The one who'd offered the camera only an ear turned just enough to reveal the sharp edge of a profile.
Rafael leaned forward, suspicion returning. "You're letting them in."
"Yes," Gregoris said.
"That doesn't sound like you."
"It is," Gregoris replied, and Rafael could swear his alpha's tone was like he was talking about annoying family.
Rafael's eyes narrowed. "Who are they?"
