Chance
The gates were still closed when they returned.
The eastern sky had not yet begun to pale. Frost clung to the ironwork in thin white lines, and the palace sat in that strange stillness that came just before the guards rotated their final watch. No one expected movement at this hour. No one expected reports.
Chance did not go to his quarters.
He left Branik to see the men settled and crossed the courtyard alone, boots striking stone that had not yet warmed beneath the coming day. The palace felt unchanged. Orderly. Controlled.
As if nothing had moved while he was gone.
Rowan’s study was lit.
Chance knocked once before entering.
Rowan looked up from the desk, already dressed, already working. He had never been one for waiting on daylight before making decisions. For a moment,
