There are few things ruder than arriving in the middle of a performance and criticizing the arrangement. There are also few things more satisfying.
The balcony door opened without a sound, Abi's doing, he had a talent for making doors forget their function whenever it suited him. Useful, certainly, but also deeply offensive to proper locks everywhere.
My father entered first, sword already drawn, moving with that deceptively relaxed gait of his, the one that made people forget he could split a battlefield open if sufficiently annoyed. Two Sonomi shadows followed behind him. I came next, and Abi trailed after me with the expression of someone preparing to enjoy a private joke at another person's expense.
