I met Cassin in the small reception room I had chosen myself—two exits, windows that could open, close enough to the main hall that a raised voice would carry. Evan waited hidden, his steady breathing the only sign he was there, ready.
Cassin arrived exactly on time, of course. That practiced warmth in his voice filled the space like a decorative fireplace—lots of heat to look at, none you could actually feel.
“Saint Healer,” he said as he sat across from me, close enough to seem friendly, far enough to stay proper. “Thank you for agreeing to talk. I know your schedule has been… demanding.”
I kept my hands folded in my lap. “Please speak plainly.”
He leaned forward just a little. I felt the air shift. “I’ll be honest with you.”
People who started sentences that way usually meant the o
