A sudden jolt broke his focus as someone brushed past, hard enough to shove his shoulder back.
Gon's head snapped around, meeting the venomous glare of the boy with the curved blade. Dark hair, lean frame, knuckles white around his hilt.
The kid's eyes burned with something personal, a silent promise of trouble, before he melted into the crowd.
Gon's jaw tightened, a spark of unease flaring then fading.
Someone with a grudge, no question. Probably worth watching when the Royale hit.
The hall pulsed around him. Servants stacking gear. Mages sizing each other up.
Zara's laugh rang out again. Talia's silhouette lingered in his periphery. The boy's glare stuck like a splinter.
Gon rolled his shoulders, grinning faintly.
Three days to master the gear. One to plan. Then the fight. Plenty of time to sort out threats. And maybe charm a few along the way.
****
The next morning, the common hall stretched long and narrow, its stone walls rough under the dim glow of iron sconces.
