Emma’s POV
The guard’s quarters are quieter than usual in the late afternoon. Most of the enforcers are out on patrol or training, leaving the long corridor lined with doors almost empty. I walk quickly, heels soft on the stone floor, my cloak pulled tight around me even though the packhouse is warm.
Kieran’s door is ajar. I knock once and push it open.
He’s sitting at the small desk, sharpening a silver dagger, sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing with each stroke of the whetstone. He looks up, surprise flashing across his face before he stands and dips his head.
“Luna,” he says, voice respectful. “What brings you here?”
I close the door behind me, leaning against it for a second to steady myself.
“I came to see you,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I need a favor.”
Kieran sets the da
