Rook's face flushed red. He was uncomfortable, annoyed, and a little flustered.
He had prepared a highly polished speech about the power of the Black family, about standing on the same side, and about the future of the Pure-bloods.
He thought he had put it well. His logic was airtight, his wording respectful. He had saved Regulus's face while asking the real question.
But Regulus Black only wanted to confirm what he was.
Regulus gave him no time to sort out his emotions and continued in an even voice. "You didn't come here because you wanted to know the Black family's stance."
Rook opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
"You came because you thought the question itself was a gain. You don't care how I answer. You care that you asked, so you'll have something to take back and talk about."
Regulus stopped. His gray eyes looked down at the other man's face, watching the color drain from it.
"You also thought the Dark Lord needed you to do this for him."
One of the Death Eaters around the perimeter suddenly raised his head.
Rook's expression shattered.
He had been trying to ease his Master's burdens. All his logic had been built on the premise that The Master was inconvenienced and couldn't ask, so he would ask instead.
But once it was said to his face, the meaning changed. That premise became an act of presumption.
You think you're acting on your Master's behalf. You think The Master needs you to do this for him. What makes you think The Master needs you?
If he wanted to know the Black family's stance, when did it become your turn to ask?
Regulus's gaze shifted away from Rook's face and moved slightly to the right, sweeping across every Death Eater in