Windstone left without another word, the door closing on a silence that was anything but calm.
The corridor outside was quiet, but not empty. Two of his men were already in position, the kind of presence you didn't notice until you were meant to. A brief nod sent them moving, one toward the security office, the other toward the east wing. The Capital manor staff had run this place for decades, some longer than Trevor Fitzgeralt's father had even held the title, and they wore that history like armor. Today, it would not save them.
He didn't care if they felt wronged. They had one job: to guard the Grand Duke's household. They had failed at it spectacularly.
