The hall of living flowers occupied the highest terrace of the citadel.
Vines covered the walls and ceiling in thick, deliberate patterns. Blossoms of soft pink and deep violet opened and closed in slow rhythm, responding to the cursed energy of anyone who entered. The air smelled of rain and crushed petals. Low tables of pale wood held bottles of clear wine and open charts of the nearer Expanse. No attendants waited inside. Lian and Mei had chosen privacy for the conversation they wanted.
Lian poured the wine herself. Mei watched my hands when I accepted the cup, measuring the control in the small movement the same way Lady Sable measured combat sequences. We drank. The wine was light and cold and carried a faint floral edge that matched the room.
They began with questions.
