Lyra did not notice the first time she was watched. She moved through the fortress with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged there, her steps measured, her expression carefully neutral. If anything, she appeared softer now less sharp around the edges, more subdued exactly as grief was expected to shape a woman who had lost a child and nearly lost another.That was why he chose her then.Councillor Maelor stood near the outer curve of the council chamber, hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed enough to look harmless. He had served the court for decades, long enough that his presence had become part of the stone itself unquestioned, unquestioned, unremarkable. His eyes, however, were anything but idle as Lyra passed through the archway.She did not look at him. She never did.That, more than anything else, drew his attention.Maelor had made a career of noticing what others overlooked. Patterns. Si
Last Updated : 2026-01-09
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