The moment Julius stepped past the threshold of the gate, the estate felt smaller.
Not physically. Socially.
Every movement from the Solidarian delegation carried weight, as if the ground itself was expected to acknowledge them.
Their attendants moved in quiet coordination, eyes forward, hands folded, spacing precise. No wasted motion. No idle glances.
They were trained.
Not soldiers—courtiers. The dangerous kind.
I turned smoothly, leading them inside the Tezca estate grounds. Jane followed half a step behind me, her presence steady, grounding.
I was grateful for that.
The heat pressed down, thick and humid, and the gravel path crunched softly beneath polished boots.
"This way, Your Highness," I said.
Julius fell into step beside me without being invited.
That alone was a statement.
The envoy trailed slightly behind him now, no longer leading. Interesting.
"You speak Solidarian court dialect fluently," the prince remarked casually. "Not many outside our borders do."
"I had capable teachers," I replied.
That was true. Books counted.
"And yet," he continued, tone light, "you are not from the Tezca duchy."
"No."
"Nor raised in the south."
"No."
Another pause.
He smiled again. "Curious."
I didn't return it.
As we walked, I observed. Always observe.
The delegation reacted subtly to their surroundings. The architecture, the layout, the servants' uniforms.
The Tezca estate wasn't medieval in the stiff, stone-heavy way of the north. It was open. Airy. Wide verandas, arched corridors, pale stone that reflected light instead of swallowing it. Southern design favored flow over defense.
The Solidarians noticed.
Some frowned. Some approved. Some clearly judged.
They cataloged weaknesses the way others cataloged art.
Inside the main hall, servants had already prepared refreshments according to Solidarian preference—cool water infused with citrus, light breads, no alcohol. That alone drew a faint nod from one of the older attendants.
Good.
We stopped before the seating area. I gestured, precisely as protocol demanded.
"Please," I said. "As honored guests of the Carlisle Empire."
The prince took his seat only after I did.
Another statement.
Conversation followed. Polite. Predictable. Weather, travel, sea conditions, the beauty of the southern coast. The envoy resumed speaking at length, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. I responded when required, minimally, efficiently.
Julius mostly watched.
Every time our eyes met, there was a flicker of recognition—like he was checking something off an invisible list.
The gods stirred again.
[You feel it too,] one whispered.[There is a distortion.]
'I know,' I replied internally. 'But don't touch it.'
[We can see further.]
'And I can see enough.'
Because whatever this was, it wasn't something that would reveal itself through divine shortcuts. It felt… layered. Intentional. Like a performance hiding another performance beneath it.
Eventually, the envoy leaned forward.
"Lady Josephine," he said, folding his hands. "May I ask—why you?"
There it was.
A challenge disguised as curiosity.
"The Tezca main family is absent due to imperial military obligations," I answered calmly. "As a ducal main family member present in the south, the responsibility fell to me."
"A matter of legality, then," he pressed.
"A matter of duty," I corrected.
The envoy smiled thinly.
Prince Kael'thes raised a hand.
"That will be all," he said.
The envoy stiffened, then bowed his head. "Of course, Your Highness."
Silence followed.
The prince turned fully toward me.
"Solidaria values preparation," he said. "We also value intent."
I said nothing.
"You could have relied on intermediaries," he continued. "Delegated the finer points. Asked… higher powers, perhaps."
My fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.
"I chose not to," I said.
"Why?"
Because relying on gods bends fate.Because shortcuts rot outcomes.Because every miracle demands payment.
"Because understanding someone's culture personally is a sign of respect," I said instead.
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Genuine.
"I like that answer," he said. "It's rare."
That didn't reassure me.
If anything, it made things worse.
The meeting concluded without incident—too smoothly, if I was being honest. The delegation was escorted to their quarters, servants moving efficiently, the Tezca sub-families watching from a distance with barely concealed resentment.
Once the hall emptied, I finally exhaled.
Jane stepped closer. "You handled that well."
"Did I?" I murmured.
She frowned. "Something wrong?"
"Yes," I said. "Everything."
The gods were quiet now.
Which was worse.
Because silence, in their case, usually meant anticipation.
After a while, I continued touring him around.