He had to find Elyra. Had to talk to her. Had to explain that the annulment needed to wait — not forever, just until after the war, just until Dhaelon was dealt with and the alliance could be renegotiated on different terms.
She would understand. She was practical. She was Veyranne — ice and stone and clear-eyed reason. She would see the logic.
Wouldn't she?
The corridors were nearly empty. Most of the court had gathered in the great hall for the Queen Dowager's war council, and the servants who remained moved in tight, silent clusters, their faces drawn with the particular anxiety of people who lived inside walls that might soon be under siege.
He passed the gallery overlooking the inner courtyard. Stopped.
Caldan was crossing the yard below. Silver hair. Long stride. A face like murder.
