Palace halls shouldn’t be this dead, not even at midnight. Rain hammered the windows, smearing the gardens into a Monet gone wrong. Somewhere out there, Gideon’s people were probably slinking around, doing whatever it is shadows do.
I stuck around by the glass, half-watching the rain, half-counting the streaks. Wren sidled up, her face sharp and ghostly in the reflection.
“Two days ago, they didn’t even know your name,” she muttered. “Now they’re acting like they run the damn place.”
Didn’t bother looking at her. “That’s what freaks me out. Swagger with no resume? Never trust it.”
She actually laughed. “Or maybe they’ve got a history. You just haven’t dug it up yet.”
I shot her a look, dropping my voice. “If they’ve been here, they vanished without a trace. People don’t pull that off
