The moment Elia returned to her chamber in the guest quarters, the silence felt heavier than before. She shut the door behind her, leaned against it, and exhaled slowly. The faint scent of burning oil filled the room. She crossed to her bed and let herself fall backward against the soft furs, her eyes fixed on the carved ceiling above her.
Her mind refused to rest. Her thoughts circled the same impossible question. How could they send words to Lyra? How could they reach the one person within the Crescent Moon’s walls… surrounded by watchful eyes and listening shadows? One wrong move, one stray word, and everything… everyone they were trying to save would be lost.
The thought circled her over and over again. Every idea she had ended in disaster… intercepted messages, exposed plans, lives
