Darius's POV
The Council Chamber was cold—stone and stained glass always dragged the temperature down. Maps, marker stones, stacked reports, and two sealed purses waited on the long table. Cassian leaned against the wall, dust on his elbow, eyes sharp.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Asleep. Stitches held.”
“And the courtyard?”
“Locked down. Guards doubled. Password changed. Kieran’s with the healer—bruised, maybe concussed. Malric’s missing. Tracks end at the creek. Someone picked him up on the far side. The prisoner’s downstairs. He’ll talk.”
“Good. Bring him up. I want him in the small room.”
⸻
The “small room” was nothing more than a sealed storage chamber beside the Council Hall. One table. One chair. Water bucket. No theatrics. We needed truth, not threats.
The vagrant was wiry, le
