"My lord," is all Nyx says, each word bitten off with that same chilly precision, nothing for Emryn to latch onto as some perceived offense, nothing for him to leverage as a demand for satisfaction. Another hard lesson learned from years of serving at Auguste's side. "Have you business with His Highness?"

He can practically feel Laurent standing behind him, radiating confusion. Nyx can only hope that he hasn't cause some offense for his charge as well. Perhaps Nyx is wholly unwanted here, perhaps Laurent would even prefer speaking with Emryn himself. But even so, the King's orders are orders.