Drasa’s POVThe door shuts behind the last of them as they all leave, the final echo swallowed by the heavy silence that follows immediately. The war room, once buzzing with tense voices and clinking armor, is empty now except for the two of us.I stand near the hearth, the fire casting gold against the stone walls, flickering shadows dancing across my face. Across from me, Cassian remains still, arms crossed, his eyes locked on me like a storm barely held at bay.The silence between us is not peaceful. It’s sharp, tight as a drawn bowstring.None of us moved, but I felt it, his fury. Not loud, not explosive, but simmering just beneath the surface, waiting. It clings to him like smoke, and beneath it, something else, something more fragile, fear.He finally speaks. His voice is low, controlled, but it cuts. “How long has this been going on, Drasa?”His words are like flint on steel. Sparks fly, even in their quietness. I did not answer right away. My fingers twitch at my sides. I reh
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