Mercer went back to Keston's townhouse three days after securing the grain contract, this time without a specific question about Darius Hale weighing on his mind. He simply wanted to sit somewhere familiar, somewhere that still felt like it belonged to the life he remembered before everything grew this complicated.
Keston answered the door with less irritation than usual, waving him inside without comment. The study looked the same as always, papers stacked in careful disorder, the smell of old books thick in the air.
"You've been quiet lately," Keston said, settling into his usual chair. "No wild questions about council politics. I was starting to worry."
"I've had other things to worry about," Mercer sat across from him, letting the silence stretch comfortably for a moment before spea
