"Trafalgar du Morgain, Zafira du Zar'khael," Lyren said with a practiced smile as they entered.
He rose from an elegant chair, the soft glow of the room reflecting off the silver threads in his ceremonial jacket. His expression was warm, confident, almost disarmingly polite.
"Welcome to my home. It's an honor to receive two heirs of the Eight Great Families under one roof."
Zafira offered a courteous nod, her voice even. "The honor is ours, Lyren. Lirantis is as beautiful as ever."
Trafalgar gave a short bow of his head, his tone neutral. "You seem to have an impressive place."
Lyren chuckled lightly. "One must maintain appearances. Please, sit — the tea should arrive shortly."
He gestured toward a low table surrounded by cushioned chairs of pearl-white fabric. The faint blue light filtering through the glass ceiling cast gentle ripples across their faces.
