“I’d be delighted.” I kept my voice level, but my pulse kicked up a fraction. Finally. The second target of my plan. “Authentication is crucial in this market. Too many forgeries flooding the high-end trade.”
“Precisely.” He gestured toward the far end of the room, where a cluster of species had gathered near a display of what looked like Thal’reth pottery. “I like to have her eyes on anything interesting. Let me introduce you.”
We moved through the crowd. The security detail followed at a discrete distance, still watching, still ready.
And there, standing in front of a glass case containing fragments of ancient Thal’reth ceramics, was a human female.
My first thought was clinical assessment. Mid-twenties. Average height for her species, which made her tiny compared to most of the room. Dark hair pulled back in a style that suggested function over fashion. Simple dress in deep blue, expensive fabric but modest cut. And at her throat, a collar that looked like jewelry until you noticed the biometric lock at the clasp.
Tarsus’s mark of ownership.
My second thought was that she looked bored.
Not nervous. Not intimidated by the room full of dangerous species in formal wear. Just bored, like she’d seen this performance a thousand times and knew how it ended.
At her feet sat a security construct. Sleek black synthetic fur, small data-ports studded along its spine, eyes that glowed with a faint analytical light as they tracked every movement in the room.
Those eyes locked onto me the moment Tarsus and I approached.
The cat’s pupils narrowed to slits. Its lips pulled back, revealing small, perfectly maintained fangs. A low, electronicgrowl started deep in its chest, barely audible but unmistakably hostile.
“Flinx,” the human said without looking down. Her voice carried a dry, exhausted patience. “Inside behavior.”
The cat sat. The growl continued.
“Carys,” Tarsus said, his tone shifting to something that made my jaw tighten. Not quite command, but close. Pure ownership. “This is Brevan Korven. He’s expressed interest in our auction.”
She turned. Her eyes met mine.
Brown. Plain brown, nothing remarkable about the color. But sharp. Analytical. The kind of gaze that didn’t assess whether you were dangerous, but what kind of dangerous you were and whether you were worth the trouble.
“Mr. Korven.” She inclined her head. Polite. Professional. Completely unimpressed. “Welcome to Valyria. What brings you to our little paradise?”
The cat hissed.
I smiled.
This was going to be interesting.
CARYS
The Errosian Catalyst sat in its containment case like a sleeping nightmare. Beautiful, I’d give it that. The compound had crystallized into structures that caught the lab’s overhead lights and split them into rainbows. Delicate formations that looked like frost on a window. Harmless, if you didn’t know better.
I knew better.
In a few days, Tarsus would start moving pieces for the gala. He always did this before major events—selected items got transferred for his precious “Collector’s Hour.” A chance for his inner circle to view what they could never own, and his most precious items would go to his private office, just to flex a little further.
“Structural integrity stable,” I dictated into my recorder. “No visible degradation since last assessment. Containment field holding at ninety-eight point three percent. Recommend transfer to vault storage within forty-eight hours.”
Flinx’s voice buzzed in my head. The neural link had been an accident—something to do with a Ylapra resonance crystal I’d been authenticating three months after Tarsus purchased my contract.
One moment Flinx was just another security system monitoring my lab. The next, we could hear each other’s thoughts. We’d kept it quiet. Tarsus didn’t need to know his surveillance construct had developed loyalty.
“I’m aware.” I moved to the next case, checking the seals on a Zhyx venom dispenser that some idiot had tried to pass off as a decorative urn. “Which is why it’s going into the vault.”
