The city burned.
From the east wall to the rebel council tower, smoke spiraled into the red morning sky.
Cassian stumbled through a side gate of the tribunal hall, one arm around Irene, the other clutching a half-broken sword.
“Third corridor," Irene panted. “The war room is behind the tapestry."
“Convenient," he muttered. “Your memory's terrifying."
“So is yours," she shot back.
They pushed through, bootsteps echoing behind them.
Guards shouted in both rebel and royal colors.
No one knew who they were supposed to be anymore.
---
Inside the council chamber, the remaining rebel leaders shouted over one another.
“This was sabotage!"
“Cassian has escaped!"
“The healer poisoned the king!"
“They'll turn the provinces against us!"
The masked envoy slammed her fist down. “Silence!"
