The Corrupted Shard (Part 2)
The day felt endless. Demetrius returned before noon, bringing with him the heavy scent of rain and battle plans. He spent the entire afternoon at the map table, occasionally issuing sharp, clipped orders to guards and messengers.
He was quiet, his movements strained. I kept to my side of the tent, pretending to be occupied with mending a rip in one of the furs. Every time I moved, the stolen items in my pocket—the journal and the silver object—pressed against my thigh, a constant, heavy reminder of the danger.
The tension between us was a living thing, thick and poisonous. We didn't exchange a single word all afternoon.
Finally, the sun dipped, and the oil lamp was lit. Demetrius dismissed his last soldier and pulled the wool partition between our areas, a
