Masuk(Lena POV)
I kept my hand on the back of the chair, my knuckles white against the dark, worn wood. Mira was still standing there, her shadow cutting across the floorboards, her eyes fixed on mine with a weight that made the air in the kitchen feel thick and hard to swallow. I looked at the candle on the table, the flame dancing in a draft I couldn't feel, casting jagged flickers of orange across the gold coins in the leather pouch."I did it to clear(Kai POV)I crossed the courtyard in the rain and went back inside through the kitchen entrance because it was the fastest way to the residential corridor and I was already soaked and there was no point in walking the long way around.The kitchen staff looked up when I came through and I waved them off before any of them could speak, walking through the heat and the smell of the evening meal being prepared and out into the passage that connected the service areas to the main residential wing. I checked the library first because she had mentioned it once, the wall of maps and the old territorial histories, and it was the kind of room she would go to when she needed to be somewhere that was not the suite. The library was empty, just the lamp someone had left burning on the far table and the rain against the windows.I checked the small sitting room off the east corridor. Empty. I checked the alcove near the council chamber where there was a window
(Kai POV)I pulled the heavy oak door shut, the latch clicking into place with a sound that felt like a bone snapping. I didn't lock it. There was no point in locking a room that felt like a cage anyway. I turned toward the corridor, my boots thudding against the stone floor, the sound echoing up into the vaulted ceiling where the shadows gathered in thick, velvet clumps. The air in the hallway was colder than the room I’d just left, smelling of damp masonry and the sharp, metallic tang of the rain still bleeding through the window slits. I walked fast, my hand brushing the cold stone wall, the rough texture catching against the skin of my palm.I rounded the corner of the gallery, my mind still looping back to the smudge of mud on the table. It was fresh. She hadn't been gone long. I reached the junction where the west wing met the main spire, my pace quickening, when a flash of blue silk moved in the periphery of my vision."Kai."
(Kai POV)I walked toward the west wing, my fingers grazing the stone wainscoting as I passed. I could still see him sitting behind that desk, the way he’d leaned into the light of the single green-shaded lamp. He hadn't looked tired. He hadn't even looked concerned about the Varden scouts or the reports of the failed breach at the eastern ridge. He’d just sat there, tapping a silver letter opener against his thumb, his eyes tracking the movement of the clock on the mantle.I stopped at the base of the grand staircase, my hand gripping the banister. I looked down at my right hand. It was steady now, but the skin felt tight, a dull throb pulsing behind my knuckles. I replayed the way he’d watched me drink that water. He didn't look at my face. He looked at the glass. He watched the level of the liquid drop, his fingers stilled on the silver blade, waiting for me to finish.The pressure. The way the Varden seemed to know exactly
(Mira POV)"Kai won't tell him," Lena said. She shifted her weight, the worn floorboards groaning under her boots. "He knows what his father is. He knows the Council is looking for any reason to push him out. He’s keeping it between us.""Between you," I repeated. I picked up the iron pot and started scrubbing the bottom with a handful of coarse salt. The scratching was loud in the small kitchen, a rhythmic, abrasive sound that seemed to fill the gaps between our breaths. I didn't look at her. I pushed the salt into the metal with the ball of my thumb until my fingers felt raw and the skin stung from the grit. "There is no 'between you' in that house, Lena. The walls have ears. The guards watch who goes in and out of those rooms. The servants whisper before the sheets are even dry. You’re playing with people who have been cheating since they were in the cradle."I walked to the sink and rinsed the pot. The water turned a murky, leade
(Theo POV)"We need to clear the floor before the morning shift hits the tannery. If the guards come down the hill, they'll start with the cellars along the ditch."I stayed by the window, my hand resting on the edge of the curtain. "She didn't look like she was checking the seams."Curtis stopped rubbing the tallow tin. He turned around, the rag wrapped around his fingers. "You saw her for five seconds through a screen door, Theo.""I saw her face," I said, letting the curtain fall back into place. I walked back toward the table but didn't sit down. "She wasn't looking around the entry. She wasn't looking at the lane or the corners. She was just standing there while Mira held the door. She looked like she’d been walking since noon.""She walked down from the spire, Theo," Pete said from the coal bin. "That's three miles of mud. Anyone looks like they've been dragged through a ditch after that walk.""It wasn't the mud," I said. I picked up my cup, looking at the dark ring of cold tea
(Theo POV)The spoon clicked against the edge of the empty pan as Pete set it down on the cold iron of the stove. He didn't turn around to face the table, but his shoulders rose and fell with a long, slow breath that he let out through his nose. Jake slid his book further down his thighs, his fingers digging into the corners of the cover until the cardboard backing groaned under the pressure."She wants something," Jake said. He didn't look at me, keeping his eyes on the wall map where the red pins marked the border. "She doesn't just walk down that road in the middle of a downpour to have tea with Mira. Not after the ridge. Not after what happened at the northern sector."Curtis took his hands off the table and leaned back in his chair, the wood giving a sharp creak that seemed to linger in the corners of the room. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a small piece of twine, and began tying a knot into the center of it, his thumbs working the coarse hemp over and over."People







