“I was under strict instructions,” Sorrell replied evenly. “Gauge how much you knew. Observe your movements. Provide support if it seemed like you had a viable plan, but say nothing. I followed orders.”
“And now?” Thane asked.
Sorrell’s lips pulled into a thinner line. “Now things have shifted. We weren’t expecting Hollow Hand remnants to strike. When the report came in that they had a target on Virellien—andthatyouwere in the middle of it—I got new orders.” His voice dropped an octave, steel beneath the ease. “Rescue the idiot. Or theidiots, as it turns out.”
Thane said nothing, but his jaw flexed. Beside him, Riven tried not to sway on his feet. The adrenaline was wearing off fast. His limbs were starting to tremble, his lungs rasping from smoke. The wound on his side pulsed steadily, dull and hot.
Behind them, the house let out a long, shuddering groan a final timbre in its collapse. Flame chewed through what remained of the eastern wing, sparks shooting upward into the dark like dying stars. Riven didn’t look back.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked hoarsely, eyes still on Sorrell.
The Glint agent tilted his head, considering. “We extract. Debrief. And then I figure out whether I’m reporting a success story or a diplomatic nightmare.” He smiled faintly. “For now, you’re under Glint protection. You’ve got thirty seconds to catch your breath before we move.”
Riven’s legs nearly gave out from relief. Not because he trusted Sorrell completely—but because, for the first time in what felt like forever, someone else had a plan. Someone else had a way out.
And for the first time, it wasn’t up to Thane to burn a path through.
It was already open.
Thane didn’t take the full thirty seconds.
“I need a vehicle,” he said, already turning toward the road. “I have to get back to the Virellien estate.”
Sorrell exhaled slowly, like he’d been waiting for that. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
Thane stopped, head angling slightly.
“You’re in no condition to go toe-to-toe with whoever is left in that house,” Sorrell continued, folding his arms. “You’rebleeding. You’re burned. You’ve been through a magical ambush and a burning building. You need a hospital, Thane, not another battlefield.”
“I don’t care about my condition,” Thane said flatly, without turning back. “I’m the Knife of Virellien. This is my job.”
Sorrell muttered something under his breath—probably something unflattering—and waved at the strike team to hold position. His jaw worked as if he were chewing down a more pointed reply, but before he could speak, Riven stepped forward.
“With your team,” he said, voice hoarse but clear, “we wouldn’t have a problem taking the estate back. Not if we go now.”
Sorrell looked at him like he was mildly offended by the suggestion. “You think I can just roll a Glint strike team into another Great House’s territory andstormthe place? I have strict orders. They have stricter ones. I don’t have the authority to authorize open military conflict, not even against Hollow Hand operatives.”
“This isn’t about protocol,” Riven shot back. “It’s about survival. House Virellien isn’t going to be the end of it. The Hollow Hand doesn’t hateoneHouse—they hate all of you. You think they intend to take one House down and stop there?”
Sorrell’s expression flickered, eyes narrowing. But Riven pressed on, ignoring the way his legs shook.
“They want a war,” he said. “And if Virellien falls, Glint takes the blame. You think they don’t know how to twist the optics? How to leak what needs leaking? Your people will be framed for this. The Hollow Hand wants the Houses to turn on each other before they even realize what’s happening.”
Thane stepped beside him, voice calm but sharp. “If Virellien falls, the rest won’t stand for long. You know it. We’ve kept the balance. You think House Azure is going to stand up to this kind of magic? You think House Temeran is ready?”
Sorrell’s jaw ticked again. He stared at them both, then looked away toward the smoking skeleton of the house behind them.
“It’s not my call,” he said finally. “I don’t like it, but I don’t get to rewrite the chain of command just because you make a compelling speech.”
“Then get us to someone whocan,” Riven said.
Sorrell rubbed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down the clean lines of his jaw. “Shit. Fine.”
He turned toward the strike team. “We’re rerouting. Extraction plus two. I’ll take responsibility for it.”
Then, to Thane and Riven, quieter now, “I’ll get you an audience with my uncle.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “The Glint Patriarch?”
