The body was still there when the yard finally emptied.
They hadn’t moved him.
No one had said it out loud, but everyone knew why. Removing him too quickly would make it easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. Leaving him where he fell forced the pack to look at the cost of panic, of hesitation, of choosing silence.
Lyra stood at the edge of the torchlight, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the dark shape on the ground.
The kitchen runner’s name was Iren.
She knew because she’d asked.
Mara had told her quietly, eyes grim. He used to sneak extra bread to the guards on late rotation.
The detail wouldn’t leave Lyra’s head.
Bread. Not weapons. Not plans. Not loyalty oaths.
Bread.
Tyler hadn’t ordered anyone to cover the body. He hadn’t ordered anyone to look away either.
He stoo
