Lucivar stormed into Saetan's study at the Hall and slammed the door behind him, snarling something incoherent. Karla, alone in the study, just raised an eyebrow at him and set aside the papers she'd been reading, leaning back in Uncle Saetan's comfortable chair. "Yes?" she drawled
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Lucivar heard it then. It wasn't anger under Karla's calmly spoken words; it was rage. So he chained his temper, no longer sure if he was dealing with Karla, his annoying cousin, or Karla, the witch who belonged to several castes that made wise men fear her wrath.
"Marian's father is a Warlord serving as a Fifth Circle guard in a Queen's court," Karla said, her own voice still quiet--and still filled with suppressed rage. "From the information your father gathered, he doesn't have the brains, the backbone, or the balls to advance any higher." Lucivar winced. If she ever met the man, at least one of those lacks would move from the figurative to the literal. "But he delused himself by thinking it's his lack of proper social connections rather than his lack of abilities that keeps him from being First or Second Circle. He likes to rub elbows with the aristo males in the court, and he likes to gamble--and so they tolerate him because they find his expectations amusing and they like winning the quarterly ( ... )
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