Lenora's POV
Duskveil was nothing like Ironbridge.
Where Ironbridge was stone and winter colors, Duskveil was timber and river-country warmth, a territory that had grown into its landscape rather than imposing on it. The pack hall was built around a courtyard of old trees. The people moved with the ease of a community that had not, in recent years, been systematically terrified.
Cassian met us at the territory gate personally, which was the kind of thing he did when he'd already been informed we were coming and had decided the correct tone to set. He was forty-two now, less silk and more substance than the man I'd observed at the river six years ago. The smile still arrived quickly but had stopped pretending to be something it wasn't.
"The ledger," he said, by way of greeting.
"Word t
