“Why are you here?!”

“I was invited,” Nezahual said, and smiled. Teomitl wanted to knock it off his face.

Deep breaths, he reminded himself. You can’t start a diplomatic incident just because the Revered Speaker of Texcoco is a pain in the ass. “I figured that,” he gritted out. “What I mean is—why are you here, specifically?” Here was Teomitl’s courtyard, which had been an oasis of calm in the bustling palace until about two minutes ago.

Nezahual looked innocent, but Teomitl knew it was a lie. “I can’t stop by to say hello? I don’t think we’ve seen each other since the plague. When your sister killed my warriors. I could demand considerable compensation for that, you know.”

There were days Teomitl could very happily murder both his siblings. “You could. But you won’t, because we both know Tizoc isn’t long for this world. You want a good relationship with the next Revered Speaker, don’t you?”

Nezahual let out a long sigh. “I don’t suppose you’d feel moved to take action before this banquet, would you?”

Just for that, Teomitl said, “No.”