Chapter 21 · Her Father's Bid

The auction hall smells like old money and newer lies. Rin can taste both on her tongue the second she steps through the side entrance, Kael's hand still hovering too close to her lower back. Not touching. Just there. Like he's waiting for her to bolt.

She might.

The space is smaller than she expected. No grand theater, no velvet curtains. Just a low-ceilinged room with maybe forty seats, half of them full. Everyone's masked. Silk, lacquer, cheap cotton painted to look expensive. The kind of crowd that wants to see and not be seen. Rin's own mask itches against her cheekbones. Kael got it from somewhere, plain black, no flourishes. His matches.

"Stay close," he says, voice pitched low enough that it sits under her ribs.

"I know how this works."

"Do you?"

She doesn't answer. Her eyes are already scanning the room, row by row, looking for the shape she's memorized from years of watching him walk away. Broad shoulders. A slump to the left when he's tired. Hands that used to braid her hair before everything went to hell.

There.

Third row from the front, aisle seat.