Zander’s eyes met mine, dark, searching.
“Then someone overheard you,” Solei said simply, folding the parchment back up. “You think we’re not being watched? That the walls in the barracks don’t have ears?”
I swallowed, uneasy. “You think someone’s spying on us? Inside the barracks?”
“If I were trying to destroy the crown from the inside,” she said coolly, “I wouldn’t start at the front gates.”
She looked at me flatly.
“I’d be sleeping in the bunk across from yours.”
* * *
I stood, crossing my arms as Solei moved toward the door. “Is Cyran going to take the meeting?”
She turned back, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “Yes. And he wants you both there.”
“Us?”
Solei nodded. “The major’s coming alone. No guards. And since we all know his dragon won’t answer him, he’s taking a risk just showing up. Under current circumstances, that’s practically suicide.”
I glanced at Zander. “What do you think?”
He shifted beside me, arms loose at his sides, expression unreadable. “I think we should find out what he has to say.”
“Agreed,” I said quietly, already reaching for the jacket tossed at the foot of the bed.
Solei gave a single nod. “Good. He’ll be here in five minutes.”
She opened the door again, pausing only long enough to say, “Come to Cyran’s office. He’s expecting you both.”
And then she was gone.
We waited almost ten minutes before we left my room.
Zander and I moved in silence through the winding tunnel halls, the flickering torchlight casting gold and amber shadows on the stone. Every step echoed, boots steady, hearts not so much. I could feel the tension building like a storm inside me—part dread, part fury.
When we entered Cyran’s office, the door creaking open just enough for us to slip in, Major Ledor was already standing at the center of the room.
He turned the moment we stepped inside, his eyes locking on Zander first, then me.
His expression hardened. “I did not realize the traitors would be present.”
“We’re not traitors,” I snapped, stepping forward as the words hissed from my lips like a whip crack. “And you damn well know it.”
Cyran didn’t even rise from behind his desk. He simply made a sweeping gesture with his hand, as calm as winter frost. “If you’re rude to Ashlyn again,” he said, “her sister will slit your throat.”
Major Ledor’s gaze darted to Solei, who stood just to my right.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But her hand tightened on the curved dagger strapped to her hip. It wasn’t one of her usual tools—it was heavier, more ornamental, with savage engravings down the steel. It was designed to look terrifying. And right now, it was doing its job.
Ledor’s face paled.
“I… apologize,” he said stiffly, dipping his chin slightly in my direction. “I’m here to request that you both return to the castle.”
Zander’s arms crossed over his chest, his voice flat. “To be assassinated?”
“We’ll pass,” I added coldly, stepping closer to the desk.
