House Velran's receiving chamber was designed to intimidate, and Ravenna hated that it worked.
The room stretched upward into shadows that swallowed the crystalline ceiling, bioluminescent veins pulsing through dark walls in patterns that seemed almost organic. The furniture was minimal but exquisite, each piece carved from materials she couldn't identify and probably couldn't afford.
She kept her expression neutral as they waited, but her demon senses were working overtime. The emotional signatures in this building were complex, layered in ways that suggested decades of practice at deception. Everyone here wore masks, not physical ones but psychological, and she couldn't tell what lurked beneath the surface calm.
"You're uncomfortable," Dante murmured, pitched low enough that only she could hear.
"I'm surrounded by professional liars who've been doing this longer than I've been alive." She kept her eyes forward. "Uncomfortable is an understatement."
