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One Thousand Club
Karn exhaled sharply through her nose, fingers tightening just slightly around the golden goblet in her grasp. Her posture did not shift, her expression did not falter, but for the first time since they had stepped into her hall, her attention truly settled on Mordecai.
She had dismissed him before.
Not because he was weak—no, she was not foolish enough to assume that—but because he was a man. And in her world, men did not speak to her like this. Men did not sit at her table and snarl like wolves in silk.
Biting words.
She tilted her head, the flicker of candlelight catching the sharp contours of her face, her painted lips curving into something that might have been amusement if it weren’t so laced with disdain.
“Very well then,” she said smoothly, her voice rolling off her tongue like honey laced with venom. “I appreciate your perspective on how I’m running things.”
A slow, deliberate sip of wine. A pause. The unspoken message that she had not, in fact, appreciated anything he had said.
“We’ll agree to disagree,” she continued, setting the goblet down with a soft clink, her rings tapping against its surface. “I acknowledge your Kingdom’s presence, and I suppose you have a certain way of doing things.” Her voice was light, disinterested, almost airy—almost. But her golden eyes were sharp, calculating.
“Even if I find them to be incorrect.”
A small, measured smile followed the words, like a dagger slid effortlessly between ribs.
She leaned back in her chair, finally shifting the weight of her attention fully toward Mordecai. “ You have a city of your own making, where Riftkin are given a place and men such as yourself wield power in ways that… well, let’s just say I find it unusual.”
She lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely in the air as if the topic itself were a passing amusement. “But that is your way, is it not? Yours and hers.” Her gaze flickered—just for a moment—toward Ephraim before settling back on him, studying him as if he were something new. Something intriguing.
A pause. A slight inhale.
“There is another matter I would like to attend to,” she said, her voice shifting, settling into something smoother, something more measured. “An exchange of sorts. To foster a relationship between our Kingdoms.”
She had dismissed him before.
Not because he was weak—no, she was not foolish enough to assume that—but because he was a man. And in her world, men did not speak to her like this. Men did not sit at her table and snarl like wolves in silk.
Biting words.
She tilted her head, the flicker of candlelight catching the sharp contours of her face, her painted lips curving into something that might have been amusement if it weren’t so laced with disdain.
“Very well then,” she said smoothly, her voice rolling off her tongue like honey laced with venom. “I appreciate your perspective on how I’m running things.”
A slow, deliberate sip of wine. A pause. The unspoken message that she had not, in fact, appreciated anything he had said.
“We’ll agree to disagree,” she continued, setting the goblet down with a soft clink, her rings tapping against its surface. “I acknowledge your Kingdom’s presence, and I suppose you have a certain way of doing things.” Her voice was light, disinterested, almost airy—almost. But her golden eyes were sharp, calculating.
“Even if I find them to be incorrect.”
A small, measured smile followed the words, like a dagger slid effortlessly between ribs.
She leaned back in her chair, finally shifting the weight of her attention fully toward Mordecai. “ You have a city of your own making, where Riftkin are given a place and men such as yourself wield power in ways that… well, let’s just say I find it unusual.”
She lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely in the air as if the topic itself were a passing amusement. “But that is your way, is it not? Yours and hers.” Her gaze flickered—just for a moment—toward Ephraim before settling back on him, studying him as if he were something new. Something intriguing.
A pause. A slight inhale.
“There is another matter I would like to attend to,” she said, her voice shifting, settling into something smoother, something more measured. “An exchange of sorts. To foster a relationship between our Kingdoms.”