The accusation hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. "You sent a spy into your own brother's household." Evan's voice, usually dripping with amused condescension, had been sharp with astonished, delighted comprehension. He clearly thought he had cornered Byron, exposed a deep betrayal.
Byron, however, offered no immediate denial, no outraged defense. Instead, a chilling stillness settled over him. He turned slowly, his gaze shifting from the triumphant Evan to his aide, who stood ramrod straight, his expression unreadable.
"Elias," Byron said as he stood up from his seat, his voice remarkably even, almost casual, "be a good fellow and fetch the amber drink from my bedchamber. The decanter on the side table. I have a feeling Lord Evan's enlightening visit may extend longer than he initially planned."
