The reaction was immediate. Rias's eyebrows shot up, Seekvaira leaned forward with sudden interest, and Sona—
"Dante Valac?" Sona's voice turned to ice. "You can't be serious."
"It's just dinner, Sona."
"That... that..." She struggled for words. "That superficial, arrogant, disrespectful excuse for a devil? The one who publicly humiliated me by refusing our chess match because of my breast size?"
"To be fair," Seekvaira interjected, "he never actually showed up to refuse. He just didn't appear."
"And then told everyone why!" Sona's glasses gleamed dangerously. "Do you know how many years it's taken to rebuild my reputation after that? Some people still call me 'Tiny Tits Sitri' behind my back!"
Latia winced. "I'm aware of his history. But our conversations have been surprisingly—"
"Intellectual?" Sona laughed bitterly. "Don't be fooled. Whatever game he's playing, it's not about stimulating discussion."
"I don't know," Rias mused. "Compared to Riser, Dante might be an improvement. At least there's that."
"Damning with faint praise," Seekvaira noted dryly.
Sona wasn't finished. "He's just like his father—holding grudges, creating political incidents, undermining alliances. The Valacs care only for their own restoration, not the good of devil society."
Latia's fan snapped shut. "That's not entirely fair. Lord Valac's rivalry with Rias's brother is well-documented, but Dante hasn't shown the same tendencies."
"Hasn't he?" Sona's violet eyes flashed. "What would you call the chess incident?"
"A tactical error in judgment," Latia replied. "One made when he was thirteen."
"When is he coming?" Seekvaira asked, clearly trying to defuse the tension.
Latia glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece, performing a quick calculation. "About an hour, I think. The invitation was for six."
"Perfect." Sona stood abruptly. "I should be gone by then."
"Sona," Rias began, "perhaps you should—"
"What? Stay and exchange pleasantries with the devil who single-handedly sabotaged my reputation before I even had one?" Sona's hands trembled slightly. "I think not."
Latia rose as well, her movements fluid but determined. "I understand your feelings, Sona. What he did was inexcusable. But people can change, especially young devils finding their way."
"Like your cousin Diodora?" Sona challenged.
"That's different."
"Is it? Or are you just willing to overlook Dante's flaws because he has a pretty face and your family needs allies?"
The room went silent. Even Seekvaira looked uncomfortable.
"That was uncalled for," Rias said quietly.
Sona closed her eyes briefly. "You're right. I apologize, Latia. That was... beneath me."
Latia nodded stiffly. "Apology accepted."
An awkward silence descended until Seekvaira cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should discuss something less contentious. The interdimensional physics symposium next month, perhaps?"
The tension gradually dissipated as they returned to safer topics. Sona remained quieter than usual, occasionally glancing at the clock. When it was time for them to leave, she was the first to stand.
"Thank you for hosting, Latia," she said formally. "The tea was excellent, as always."
"You're welcome anytime," Latia replied, the practiced words of a perfect hostess.
As they said their goodbyes, Rias hung back slightly. "Don't let Sona's reaction worry you. She carries that wound close to her heart."
"I know." Latia sighed. "I should have been more thoughtful about bringing up Dante."
"Perhaps," Rias agreed. "But I'm curious about your dinner. There must be something intriguing about him to catch your interest."
Latia's fan opened again, partially hiding her expression. "He asks questions no one else thinks to ask. About magical theory, about family traditions, about the future of devil society. It's... refreshing."
"Just be careful," Rias warned. "Dante Valac has secrets. I can feel it."
"Don't we all?" Latia's lips curved into a small smile. "That's what makes dinner conversation interesting."
After her friends departed, Latia retreated to her chambers to prepare for the evening. She selected a gown of midnight blue with subtle silver accents—elegant without appearing as though she'd tried too hard. Her personal maid arranged her hair in a more sophisticated style, allowing the blue-tipped ends to cascade over one shoulder.
As she applied a final touch of color to her lips, Latia considered Sona's reaction. The chess incident had indeed been humiliating, but something about it had always struck her as calculated rather than merely cruel. Why would an intelligent young devil deliberately create such a political incident? What purpose did it serve?
Perhaps tonight she would find out.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed quarter to six. Fifteen minutes until Dante's arrival. Latia took a deep breath, centered herself, and headed downstairs to inform the household staff of final arrangements.
As she descended the grand staircase, her mind returned to the formula she'd been working on earlier. The solution suddenly presented itself—she'd been approaching the problem from the wrong angle. The energy conversion wasn't failing; it was transforming into something unexpected.
Just like tonight's dinner might transform her understanding of Dante Valac.