Mingxi pushed himself upright, one hand braced against his ribs. “Secondary safe house.” Rowan nodded. “North London. Less traffic. Stronger wards. Less gossip.”
A second Guardian entered, dropping a small satchel of supplies, bandages, salves, a lantern, a cloak thick enough to keep out the damp.
“Travel light,” she murmured. “London’s colder tonight.”
Poppy slipped her daggers beneath her cloak. “Do we meet with the Council first?”
“Briefly,” Rowan said. “Five minutes. No more.”
She flicked a glance at Mingxi. “Can you walk?”
“I can walk,” he said.
She didn’t believe him, but this wasn’t the place to argue.
The lower chamber of the London Hall was dimly lit, with only a few Councilors present at the late hour. No ceremony, no debate—just tired officials and the scent of extinguished incense.
An older Councilor stepped forward. “Lady Penelope. Councilor Shen. This relocation is precautionary. You will be transferred to a secondary safe house until dawn. After that, the Council will reassess your positions.”
Poppy folded her arms. “Are we in danger?”
“Not tonight,” the Councilor said.
Mingxi’s eyes narrowed. “But possibly soon.”
A too-careful pause followed.
“We will have answers in the morning,” the woman said. “For now, go. Guardian escort is waiting.”
Rowan gestured sharply. “Move.”
They slipped out a side entrance into London’s fog-damp streets. Gas lamps glowed in pale halos, blurring in the mist. A carriage rattled somewhere down the road. Somewhere else a cat yowled from a windowsill. A man stumbled out of a tavern, cursing at the cold.
Everything felt perfectly, absolutely normal.
Poppy stayed near Mingxi, close enough that if he wavered, she could steady him. He didn’t, but she stayed close anyway.
“Your ribs are still hurting?” she whispered.
“I’ve endured worse,” he murmured.
“That’s not an answer.”
His mouth softened at the edges. “Then… yes. But I will manage.”
The secondary safe house was a narrow brick townhouse tucked between a shuttered bakery and an herb shop, plain, forgettable, exactly what a safe house should be. Rowan unlocked the door and stepped aside.
Inside, the air was warmer, carrying the faint scent of rosemary. Wards glimmered faintly across the doorframe—old, heavy, thoroughly reliable.
“Supplies are on the table,” Rowan said. “Water, bandages, tea. A healer will check on you at first light.” He looked between them, voice softening just barely. “Rest. Dawn will come quickly.”
Poppy nodded. “Thank you.”
Mingxi inclined his head. “We’ll remain inside.”
Rowan seemed satisfied. “We’ll be stationed outside. Knock if you need anything.”
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
