Varric did not like silence.
Silence meant delay, and delay meant variables he had not accounted for. The two blood generals he had sent to retrieve Emily were not amateurs.
They were seasoned, disciplined, loyal to command and ruthless when required. Even if the mission failed, he should have received a signal.
A message. A pulse through the binding stone each of them carried.
Instead, there had been nothing.
For hours.
By the time the night began to thin into early dawn, irritation had given way to something colder. Varric stood from the long table in his chamber, fastening the clasp of his dark coat with sharp, efficient movements.
“Get General Corvin,” he ordered a passing guard. “Now.”
Corvin arrived within minutes, tall and severe, eyes alert with curiosity he did not voice
