The data introduced an immediate friction. For the first time since establishing her operational parameters, Elara felt a distinct urge to alter the current physical contact.
"Remove your hand, Commander," Elara said flatly.
Ken froze. His dark eyes narrowed, the lazy, confident heat in his gaze instantly hardening into something sharp and dangerous. He didn't drop his hand right away; instead, his grip tightened by an incremental fraction, a silent, possessive reflex. "What?"
"Your current physical contact is unoptimized for the current setting," Elara stated, her vacant glass-bead eyes locking onto his with absolute, freezing authority. "The banquet is still active. The northern ambassadors are stationed within a fifty-yard radius. Any visible display of domestic proximity between the Regent and the Commander of the Guard will result in an immediate diplomatic discrepancy. Remove your hand."
