It did not surprise Ira that it was Sitri who answered his call, despite that it had been specifically for Jinx. The Princeling had not thought that his mother would make it that easy. After all, there was a chance, Ira reasoned, that Jinx was still mad at him. Smarmy smirk tugged at the edges of the pallid Princeling's lips as the heavily scarred Sitri approached. His demeanor was different than Ira remembered but Ira deluded himself into thinking that it was just because Sitri had to deal with him. Ira had a habit of making enemies every where he went and though he had felt something of a skewered kinship with the ugly man before him there had nothing that had been kind in Ira when they had spoken previous — mostly because hardly anything Ira said or did was kind. Ira watched with suspicion at Sitri's bowed head.
Ira, when he watched Sitri stop in his approach and look at him, stood up taller, trying to show that just because Jinx had chased him off did not mean that he stopped being the Princeling. In reality, it did. In Ira's head it was a very different story. his subordinate the other, his breath hitching as he tried to find his lungs in his body.
Ira looked at Sitri — really looked as Sitri's words sunk slowly and painfully into Ira's mind, into his heart. It had not been dread of talking to Ira that had plagued Sitri, the highly intelligent boy could see that now. It had been a dread of telling Ira what had came to pass. Ira's jaw clenched together tightly, painfully tight as his chest heaved with the sobs that wracked his body.