Lena
Twenty-four hours.
An entire day had crawled past since Elian and I had been cornered in the study, and yet the palace remained quiet. The silence of the Western Wing was driving me mad. I sat at the edge of the massive bed, my fingers tracing the gold embroidery of my skirts as I stared out the arched window at the gathering dusk.
If Elian had actually succeeded in taking the border map, Gunnar would have discovered it by now. The vanguard commanders were constantly slipping in and out of the war room; a missing strategic scroll would have triggered an immediate lockdown. The fact that Gunnar hadn't stormed into my chambers, blade drawn, meant Elian must have failed. Perhaps the scroll he'd tucked into his robes had been nothing more than an old inventory log.
But if Elian had fa
