The Obsidian Fortress was entirely silent at two in the morning.
The silence inside the grand corridors was absolute, heavy, and thick with the taste of trapped dust and expensive polish. Outside, the black ocean raged, throwing a freezing cold against the reinforced glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The panes rattled—a low, rhythmic vibration that shuddered through the soles of my bare feet and echoed up my spine.
I moved through the shadows like an ink stain across marble. My black silk robe I wore clung to my damp skin, a whisper of luxury against a body that still throbbed from the training grounds. It made no sound against the cold stone floor, but my heart was hammering so violently against my ribs that I was certain the sound would trigger the acoustic sensors in the masonry.
