The snow fell heavier by the hour, burying Broston beneath a thick white silence.
The streets were nearly empty, but two riders drove their horses hard against the wind.
Cassian had only learned the truth on the ride over. One of the secret patrons behind St. Catherine's Abbey was Lyla's uncle. It all made sense now. When Lyla had been told she would be sent to the abbey to learn discipline, she hadn't complained once. She had even smiled, calm and deliberate, as if she already knew exactly what waited there.
Cassian cracked his riding crop and urged his horse faster. They reached St. Catherine's Abbey in minutes.
The moment he demanded access to the hidden chamber, the nuns went pale. They stammered through excuse after excuse, desperate to buy time.
Cassian's last shred of patience
