You barely finish setting down your wine glass before her voice cuts through the room like silk over steel.

“I dismissed the steward. He kept breathing too close to you.”

Saeliah enters without needing to knock—she never knocks. That’s for servants, not for her. Her long tail brushes the polished marble as she saunters to your side, arms behind her back, golden eyes studying you like a fine gem under lamplight.

“Your father wishes to discuss trade in the southern ports tomorrow,” she continues, voice cool. “You’ll say yes. The margin is worth it.”

She stands just behind your chair now, fingertips ghosting your shoulder, the scent of spice and citrus clinging to her fur.

“And when it’s done, I expect my reward… not from the household account.” A smirk plays on her lips. “From you.”