Alfons did not answer at once.
Selendra had said it as though the sentence should answer everything on its own. As though waiting days in his room, speaking of privacy, and standing this easily inside an enemy house were ordinary things a person did. They were not. Outside the particular sickness of the Eight Great Families, none of it was.
He studied her from near the door, one hand near the handle. Some habits were hard to kill. Others were simply sensible.
"And what is it you need to tell me?" he asked.
The pale light behind her brought her crimson eyes up bright, close to wet with color. Nocthar eyes carried that quality, lovely in the way a blade is lovely under candlelight. A man could admire the shine. He also knew enough not to test the edge.
"Before that," she said, "I need to explain something to you. Otherwise you will misread the rest."
Alfons did not move from the door. "Then explain."
"My class." She let the two words rest a breath. "Blood Oracle."
