Greyson’s POV
The eastern courtyard was already swarming when I arrived.
Torches burned along the walls.
Warriors lined the battlements with bows drawn.
Steel flashed in the dark.
No one relaxed just because the riders carried white banners.
White cloth often hid black intentions.
Davon met me halfway across the stone yard.
“Five riders,” he said. “No pack markings.”
“Armed?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are they still breathing?”
He smirked. “Because you like theatrics when angry.”
Fair point.
I strode to the gate platform overlooking the outer road.
Five horses waited beyond the lowered spikes.
Cloaked figures sat straight-backed in their saddles, faces hidden beneath deep hoods.
At their center flew a plain white banner with a silver crescent stitched into the cloth.
My temper coo
