Ranvir suffered through the Ankirian dinner silently. While Korfiyan, or at least Limcleaian, fare was a further step from Elusrian, Ankirian twisted the familiar just enough to make it uncomfortably strange.

Meals that Ranvir recognized were set out on the tables, yet the aroma didn’t fit as he thought it should. This one wafted strong tones of cinnamon when it should be meaty. That one was far too spicy. In the end, he ended up going for the food he was less familiar with. Avoiding the violation of his expectations.

It soon became clear that Asmar al-Firman saw dinner as a political event. He kept trying to talk with Ranvir. Mostly about unfamiliar political subjects, or occasionally something he vaguely recognized, such as Grevor’s brother being raised to the head of his family.

Ranvir attempted polite conversation, but soon realized there would be no safe harbor at this boisterous building of a man. Hurrying through his food, he nodded idly, mostly ignoring his dinner companion. Rude, he knew, but Ranvir didn’t care enough to alter his behavior. If he wanted to talk politics so much, Pashar and Grevor were right there, trained and ready to spar with him.

“Thank you for the food,” Ranvir said, probably interrupting the older man. “I really appreciate it, and it sure was tasty. Do you have a place where I can get some fresh air?” Not bothering to wait for his answer, Ranvir wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to his feet.

Pashar shut her eyes painfully, clearly her cringe. Grevor was equally, perhaps more subtle, hiding his face behind a long swallow of tea. Sansir didn’t seem to have noticed his behavior, stiffly eating his food. He seemed to have drifted off into some distant space where others couldn’t reach him.

It was Idrees who showed the greatest reaction. Jaw set and eyes flashing dangerously, he jerked up from his chair so fast it slammed onto the floor. He slammed both hands on the table, thunderheads playing behind his green eyes. “You will show some respect!”

“Please, Idrees,” Asmar said, raising a hand to stifle the tension before it could stiffen the room too far. “It is alright.”

Ranvir had noticed how Idrees seemed bothered by his behavior, but he hadn’t thought the man would react so strongly. Leaning over the table, scowling as he was, he almost appeared the mirror to Sansir just last night. Though, of course, he had more hair and less height. Idrees was probably five or six years older than them.

Asmar got up from his chair. “Of course, I will have a servant show you the way.” He deliberately ignored the still standing Idrees, his breathing heavy in the quiet. “I’m afraid I can’t let you roam the estate as you please. I hope you understand.”

Ranvir nodded agreeably, letting the taller man lead him out of the room.

“You’re playing on thin ice, you know that?”

“Because of Idrees?”

“You’re not showing the proper respect due one of my station.”

“A twin master?”

“A noble.”

Ranvir glanced at Asmar from the corner of his eye. The huge tethered seemed to loom over him without realizing. Probably a well-developed skill. “I can see from your gaze that you didn’t think much of that.”

“I don’t hide my feelings well. I’m not a noble.”

“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” The amusement had gone from Asmar’s voice. When Ranvir gazed at him, he found the older man’s gaze cold and domineering. His posture had changed, removing anything accidental from it now.

Temperature plummeted. Ranvir’s breath plumed white before him and a shiver ravaged his spine as bumps prickled his skin. Pressure settled on his shoulders, weighing heavily, pressing onto him, like the glacial mountain that now roved high into the sky before him.

Tension crept into Ranvir as he fought back. Even his trained spirit couldn’t simply shrug off such an old and talented Master’s pressure. Nor could it bow him. His eyes burned until they rivaled Asmar’s stagnant yellow light. His wings spread, broadening his figure. Ranvir restrained his tether-sense, avoiding pushing back against Asmar.

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“Careful. We’re not so far from the border. Saleema could sense you.”

Asmar’s posturing snapped back immediately. The hallway seemed to gasp as the pressure on the temperature suddenly snapped into a far more reasonable range. A few servants standing at a crossing stirred and hurried along. Tethered, who’d been standing guard, stepped forth to assist their leader.

Raising a quick hand, Asmar’s eyes were locked on Ranvir. “That is no laughing matter. Are you certain?”

“Can you not sense her?”

Yellow eyes scrutinized Ranvir, searching him for deception or evasion. Asmar slowly shook his head.

“Perhaps it’s time to brush up on the basics, then.” Ranvir gestured for a servant who had stopped in to see what was going on. “I need a place to get some fresh air.”

“In the guest suites,” Asmar hurriedly added. Ranvir was surprised by how rattled he seemed. “They have balconies,” he explained.

Ranvir nodded, gesturing for the servant to show him the way. Asmar returned to the dinner, telling them where Ranvir went. It seemed he fully intended to avoid addressing the events that had just occurred.

Ranvir scratched at the rough skin of his bird arm. If it came to blows within the estate, he couldn’t fight his way out. Asmar's outburst revealed another two masters going about their business, making it five, including Idrees and his companions. Adding Asmar to the attack without counting all the other tethered in the estate would be stretching their capabilities.

Pashar was a master, Grevor was close, and Sansir had a strong Concept, but that wouldn’t make up for how hard they were outnumbered. Though Ranvir wondered if the Sleeping Sons had the chops to stop them from escaping, should it go that far?

“In here, Sir,” the servant said, holding open a door for Ranvir.

The guest room was well-appointed, though Ranvir didn’t examine it overlong. Instead, he simply strode out and took a criss-cross seat on the balcony. It looked out over the surrounding forest.

The Sleeping Sons, or perhaps the ones who’d lived here before, had trimmed the forest back from the estate, opening a flat grassland surrounding the place. He only took a moment to examine the area. He faintly noted the movement of critters in the trees. Squirrels’ bushy tails and quick feet. Songbirds fluttering between branches. A fox already preparing its new coat for the winter.

“How did that go?” Pashar asked, stepping inside before Ranvir could slip into his tether-sense. She tutted at the room, apparently not meeting her standard, before stepping out onto the balcony. “Did you piss him off?”

“I told him I didn’t care for nobles.”

“Knowing you, that would’ve been enough. Asmar has always been a little short of temper. Whether good or ill. As quick with a laugh as a threat.”

Ranvir shook his head, keeping his eyes on the rolling forest landscape.

“But then, how did you get him to back down?” Pashar made a few mouth noises as she considered. “Probably you reminded him of Saleema. With those eyes, it might send off danger signals in his head.”

Ranvir looked at her then.

“He fought her?”

“Briefly, to my understanding. He was in the capital when she attacked. He fought alongside the other High Masters.”

“You said he was thirty-second from the throne? Is that considered far? Or close?”

“Far,” she said with a chuckle. “He’s a barely legitimized bastard. If he hadn’t developed such a talent, he would’ve languished in the Sleeping Sons forever.”

“So they are all…”

“Half-bloods,” Pashar jumped her eyebrows. “Though don’t say it to their face. They prefer bastards over even that.”

Ranvir nodded. “Sansir looks like he could be Idrees’ cousin. Sometimes, at least.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they were. He’s likely cousins with a dozen of them tethered in this house.”

“That many?”

“Royalty is encouraged to… fraternize. Every child of the royals, even if their eyes don’t glow, has the same potential within them.”

“Tethered?”

She nodded.

Ranvir considered for a moment. “Is Idrees…”

Pashar quirked a little smile. “I can’t know for sure, of course, but there’s enough evidence to suggest a connection. Private training, tutoring session, rapid rise through the Sleeping Sons.”

“Father and son.” Ranvir pursed his lips. He couldn’t really blame Asmar for that. If Ranvir was given the opportunity, he would’ve pushed Vasso similarly. Technically, he already was. Giving him specialized training, establishing contact with future nobility, ensuring he had better opportunities.

“Nepotism like that was all over Ankiria.”

“Really?”

“By all means, I am the adopted daughter of Saif. He took me in and trained me personally. I reached the third-stage quickly, not because of my incredible in-born talent, but a relentless, skilled, and powerful teacher.”

Ranvir grimaced. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

Pashar worried at her lip, showing a rare glimpse of weakness. “I don’t think it did me that many favors in the end.”

Sansir knocked on the door before opening it. “Could I talk with you for a moment?”

Ranvir sighed. He wouldn’t find the time to stretch his tether-sense, was he? Glancing at Pashar, he nodded and she left.