He arrived early.
Not to the front. Not to the seat Helena had saved him in the second row, the one she had texted him about twice and then once more with a specific time.
He texted her back: I'll be at the back.
She had responded: I know.
The room filled.
He watched it fill from the back corner, standing, the way he had stood at the back of rooms his entire professional life — assessing, watching, running the quiet analysis of someone who understood that the most useful position was often the one nobody was paying attention to.
The faces arriving.
He knew most of them.
Helena, front row. She took her seat and looked immediately to the back and found him and held his gaze for a moment and then looked at the podium.
Adrian beside her. Already looking for Riven, who arrived two minutes later and sat in the seat Adrian had been saving with the specific body language of someone who had stopped pretending they weren't saving it.
