Darius POV
Eliot did not interrupt unless it mattered.
That was how I knew it did.
He entered without haste, closing the door behind him before crossing the room. His posture was as it always was, controlled, precise, but there was a slight shift in his attention that made the purpose clear before he spoke.
"My lord," he said, placing a sealed letter on the desk. "This arrived for Lord Valecrest."
I looked at it.
The seal was already broken.
That told me enough.
"He's read it," I said.
"Yes."
Eliot did not elaborate. He did not need to.
I reached for the letter and unfolded it, scanning the contents once without interruption. The tone was measured, the wording deliberate. It was written by someone who understood how to provoke without appearing to do so.
By the time I reached the end, there was nothing left to interpret.
I set it down.
"He overstepped."
Eliot inclined his head slightly. "Yes, my lord."
That was the simplest way to define it.
