= Amara =
Caryl settled into the role of my personal assistant with surprising ease. There was no awkward transition, no hesitation, no learning curve anyone could point out. One day she was simply there—efficient, observant, and already anticipating what I needed before I asked.
She was only two years younger than me, but the gap felt nonexistent when it came to competence. If anything, she often moved like someone who’d lived twice as long within the territory’s walls. Effective didn’t quite cover it. Having someone who knew every bend in the roads, every hidden passage, every forgotten corner of Veyrath was an advantage I hadn’t realized I was missing.
It made sense once she told me why.
Caryl was the daughter of a vendor—someone who had lived by routes, by trade paths, by movement.
