Rowan's POV
Rowan hated how easy it had become to lie with a smile.
He stood alone in the narrow service corridor behind the kitchens, the tray he had carried earlier now set aside on a small wooden table. The stone wall felt cool against his back as he leaned there, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular. The faint smell of fresh bread and herbs still clung to his uniform, mixing with the usual damp, earthy scent of the lower corridors. It was a smell he had grown used to over the years, but today it did nothing to ease the weight sitting heavy in his chest.
Elder Tyler's words from a few days ago kept turning in his head like a dull knife that refused to stop cutting.
Watch her. Report any instability. Do not intervene.
He had nodded then. Of course he had. That
