Lucian's Pov
The account they gave was thorough. I listened in silence, expression blank as they recounted the ambush, the weapon retrieval, the rouges. Every word they spoke painted a picture I didn't like—one riddled with too many unknowns. When they were done, I dismissed them all with a curt nod.
"Get some rest," I said. "You've earned it."
They looked like they'd been dragged through a battlefield and spit out the other side, but alive. That was the important part. The mission had been dangerous from the start; I knew it would be. That was why I'd handpicked the team. They were the best of the trainees—sharp, strong, proven under pressure. Except Elara, of course. She was one of the elder's grand-goddaughter, a political pawn dressed in combat gear. I had planned to include her before even picking the rest.
