Cassian froze.
Court language during consort selection ceremonies?
His heart gave an immediate lurch...sharp and unexpected, like a blade slipping too close to bone. He turned fully to Veyce now, eyes wide. "Wait. You mean demon court language?" he asked, voice low but urgent.
Veyce gave a single, effortless shrug. "Obviously. What else did you think they'd be teaching? Human wedding vows?"
Cassian's mouth opened, then closed again. "But… I don't even know demon language. Not really. Not beyond the basic phrases for greetings and apologies, and—gods—I failed the last test because it was written in demon language."
And this wasn't just language. It was court language. The kind laced with formality, specific conjugations, and subtle word choices that could elevate or insult depending on tone alone. Not something one could just guess their way through.
