"I had better parents this time."
Kamal's expression changed by half a breath before smoothing again.
Arik saw it anyway. Of course he did.
Kamal had once spent forty years hiding grief behind formal reports and breakfast schedules. Tiny reactions were practically screams with him.
"You remember things," Kamal said carefully.
"Yes."
"How much?"
Arik tilted his head slightly. "Enough to remember you threatening a minister with a serving tray because he interrupted breakfast after a six-day campaign."
For the first time, genuine emotion cracked through Kamal's composure.
"That was classified."
"You hit him."
"He survived."
"You aimed poorly."
Mezos made a strangled sound somewhere behind them, possibly from trying not to laugh at the image of this elegant, terrifying man assaulting nobility with dining equipment.
Kamal's eyes remained fixed on Arik now, searching for his master but still wary.
Arik walked slowly farther into the room.
