The city blurred past the tinted windows: glass towers, embassy façades, and the river flashing silver as they crossed the bridge into the imperial district. Lucas sat with one ankle crossed over his knee, hands clasped loosely, and eyes half-lidded as he watched the familiar landmarks go by. He had been to the palace before for preparations and meetings with Sirius and Lucius, but never summoned like this, never ushered in as someone Caelan wanted to speak to directly.
Windstone sat beside him, as still as carved stone. Only the faint shift of his pale-green eyes followed the route, scanning the sidewalks, the rooftops, and the traffic with the quiet diligence of a man who had already catalogued every threat twice.
When the car turned under the arched entrance of the east wing, the driver slowed, and a pair of uniformed guards stepped forward to open the doors. The scent of polished marble and clipped boxwood from the courtyard washed in.
