The moment the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them, isolating them in the private gallery, the screaming match began precisely as Mesha had anticipated.
"Have you perhaps lost your mind, nephew?" Keval snapped immediately, his voice dropping into a harsh, furious whisper that practically vibrated with rage. He threw an aggressively annoyed glare at his nephew. His Emperor.
"That was remarkably ill-said, uncle, and something a lesser sovereign might take severe offense to," Mesha replied smoothly, turning to face him. Breathing in and out, not to fall to the void of rage. His father was cursed with that sin.
He was not his father.
And still,privately, he was starting to wonder if the old Spymaster wasn't the one currently going senile. "And besides,mad? I have never been saner in my life."
