Elijah’s POV
The corridors of the packhouse had never felt so quiet, nor so heavy with foreboding. I moved through the hallways at dusk, lantern in hand, weaving between carved pillars and tapestries that seemed to watch me as I passed. My skin prickled with unease, Leila was up to something, I was sure of it.
It began with little signs. A door hinge that cracked when I knew it had been oiled. A drawer in her room that refused to stay closed, a faint scrape at the latch as if someone had forced it open. I found footprints by her window sill, bare and small leading toward the east wing where the patrols seldom ventured.
My heart clenched. She was planning to leave.
I hurried to my father’s chambers. Alpha Orion looked up from the maps he studied, his silver hair catching the lantern lig
