“Not at all.” He poured two cups of tea without asking and lumped sugar into his brew. “There’s no need to stand on formality. Call me Cyrus. May I call you Julianna?” The tone of his voice wasn’t warm, exactly, but it was frank. If the rumor mill was to be trusted, he was not putting on airs; no tyrant worked within these walls. Claymore was a congenial administrator, and he would be so in their interview, as long as it went according to his expectations.

He raised his cup and took a sip.