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CASPIAN The alarm comes at midday on a Friday. I am at my desk when the sound moves through the palace walls and I am on my feet before it finishes. Not fear — something more useful than fear, the cold clarifying efficiency of a man who has been defending his territory for centuries and knows exactly what his body is for when it needs defending. Marcus is already in the corridor. We don’t speak. We don’t need to. The attack is on the northern perimeter. I shift before I reach the tree line and move through my territory with the absolute authority of something that belongs to this land beyond ownership. My warriors are already engaging and the fighting is not long but it is specific — the attackers move with a precision that tells me this was planned. Executed with the patience of peop
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