The private meeting room in the Imperial Palace's diplomatic wing was supposed to be neutral ground—a place where even enemies could conduct necessary business without fear of interference or surveillance. Which made it the perfect location for Jack Blazespout to spring whatever trap he had been preparing since my engagement announcements shattered his careful political plans.
"Arthur," Jack said as I entered the elegantly appointed chamber, his voice carrying that familiar combination of charm and malice that had characterized our relationship since our first confrontation four years ago. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."
He stood near the room's tall windows, silhouetted against the afternoon light in a way that made his features appear sharper and more predatory than usual. There was something different about his demeanor today—a confidence that went beyond his typical arrogance, as if he knew something I didn't.
