The Searing had been eating at him for three days straight.
He didn't come here for the wine or the company — he came because someone in this room was selling information east, and he was going to find out who before the night was over. That was the plan.
Then the doors opened.
He doesn't know what made him look. He always watches the door, but this was different — something pulled his attention before he'd made the decision to move it. And there she was. Black hair. White skin. Eyes so pale they looked like they belonged to something that had never seen sunlight.
Voss's sick daughter. He'd heard the name. Never thought much about it.
He thought about it now.
She scanned the room the second she walked in — fast, clean, thorough. Nobody else noticed. He noticed. Then her face went smooth again and she stepped forward like nothing happened, and he was already moving before Voss could open his mouth.
"Kael—" the old man said, behind him.
He didn't stop.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of her. Close. Closer than was appropriate — he's never particularly cared about appropriate. She looked up at him and didn't flinch, didn't step back, just met his eyes and waited.
He looked at her for a moment.
"You're Voss's daughter."
