Kael finally raised his eyes.
And the temperature in the room seemed to lower by a breath.
Cassian stopped breathing. Luneth shifted her stance, subtly—but not subtly enough for someone like Kael to miss.
Still, he said nothing.
His eyes landed on Lindarion like weights dropped into a well. Not burning. Not furious. Just fixed.
"Do you think," Kael said softly, "that you're untouchable?"
'Why is he acting like a third rate villain…'
Lindarion didn't answer.
Kael rose.
Not fast. Not in a flash. He stood like someone standing from a throne he didn't remember sitting on.
He was taller. Older. And behind his presence lurked something feral, not like Rowan's shadow-predator weight, but colder. Sharper. Less wounded, more refined to a weapon.
"I don't care who you impressed today," Kael continued. "Or how many eyes are watching you. I've seen power before. Real power. And I've seen it break people younger than you."
Still no answer.
Kael stepped forward. Two paces.
