The grand council had adjourned hours ago, but the high strategy chamber remained wrapped in a stillness broken only by the crackle of pine logs in the hearth.
Sheets of parchment covered the dark oak table. I sat near the fire, a silver quill moving steadily across a fresh ledger as I calculated the supply distribution for the eastern blockades. Across the continent, the trap was springing. The Northern Merchant Syndicate had received my audit notes before dusk, and by tomorrow morning, Alpha Hector’s credit lines across four provinces would freeze solid.
A shadow fell across the parchment.
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air shifted, thick with the scent of dark cedarwood, mountain rain, and an undeniable, intoxicating heat that made my skin prickle.
Cassian stood be
