The morning sun barely cleared the hills when Aiden called the command meeting inside the central tent. His white hair was still disheveled from the night, golden eyes sharp but ringed with shadows.
New fractures glowed faintly under the loose collar of his shirt. Pain sat heavy in his chest, but he kept his back straight.
The Empress sat right beside him at the folding table. Amber hair pinned back neatly, red eyes calm and calculating. Her hand rested openly on his thigh under the edge of the table where only those closest could see.
Every few minutes her fingers shifted, brushing over a fracture line on his wrist that peeked from his sleeve. The touch was steady. Possessive.
Five loyal nobles and three senior officers filled the rest of the space. Maps lay spread between them, marked with fresh red ink for lost supply lines.
"Western provinces have cut every route," one officer reported.
