The man in Lucian’s grip wore Greyhaven gray.
He did not smell like Edric Halvern.
Lucian hauled him through the doorway anyway and kicked it shut against the storm. The guard dropped to one knee, too weak to fight the hand around his throat.
Evelyn pushed to her feet beside Marcus.
“Let him go.”
“He approached without identifying himself.”
“He can’t identify himself if you crush his windpipe.”
Lucian eased his grip.
The man folded against the door. Blood soaked one side of his mantle, and a bruise spread across his temple.
Not a stolen uniform, then. His own.
Evelyn crossed the room and crouched in front of him.
“Name and rank.”
“Corporal Hayes.” His breath scraped. “Western patrol.”
He was young. Young enough that the swelling at his temple made him look unfinished instead o
