After a long night spent turning over options, measuring risks, and silently cursing Matthias's stubborn martyrdom, Olivia had no desire for rest. The moment the winter sun cut through the morning haze, her carriage was already settled before the towering gates of the Imperial Palace.
She stepped down onto the cobblestones. Her stance was rigid, her spine perfectly straight as she adjusted the heavy collar of her cloak. She didn't look back, but as she stared up at the stone facades of the palace, a distinct sensation crawled up her neck—the prickle of eyes watching her from the shadows of the secondary barracks.
Distance or not, Matthias was tied to this fortress now. Under his assumed name as a High Sentinel, the palace line was his post. He was keeping his vigil from the dark—too deeply entangled in his own duty to cross her path, yet close enough to see her arrival. Olivia ignored the phantom gaze. She had a grander board to play today.
