Cassian returned near dusk.
No Leonard walked behind him. Only dust on his boots and a look that said the errand had gone wrong without leaving a mark anyone else could see.
A footman led him to Lucien's study. The duke was not there. Elian was not there. The room still smelled faintly of ink and the closed-in quiet of a conversation that had ended only hours ago.
"Where is His Grace?" Cassian asked.
"Resting with Master Elian, Captain. I was told to have you wait."
Cassian nodded once and stayed on his feet. He did not sit in Lucien's chair. He did not touch the papers on the desk. He stood by the window with his gloves in one hand and watched the courtyard darken, already arranging the words he would have to say.
The door opened again.
It was not Lucien.
Chester stepped in his usual polite steps—his gold rings catching the last light, the polite smile of a man who collected other people's business.
