The council hall didn’t erupt.
Aria had expected shouting, accusations, someone calling for her arrest. Instead, there was silence. The kind that pressed against your ears and made you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing.
Envoy Mara stared at the dead shard on the table like it might start glowing again if she looked hard enough.
“You expect me to send word to the High Houses,” she said finally. Her voice was dry, worn thin. “Based on a rock and a story.”
“Based on ten years of silence from the lower ruins,” Kieran said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “And on the fact that we walked out of there alive. No one’s done that in a thousand years.”
Mara’s eyes flicked to him, then to Darian. She didn’t miss the way he stood slightly in front of Aria, not quite blocking, not
