Jasper blinked. "What, you think he's still here?"
"No," Damian said in a low voice. "I think he was here. Long enough to watch us scramble. Maybe long enough to plant something. This—" he gestured at the room, the guards, the rising tempo of patrols, "—is a distraction. A smokescreen."
Evelina's breath slowed. Her hand curled unconsciously over her ribs. A low growl reverberated in her mind.
"He's not hiding," Relia said. "He's watching. Waiting. Like carrion circling before the kill."
The tension in the room thickened. Jasper looked between them. "So what do we do?"
"We prepare," Evelina said. Her voice was steel again. "Whatever this is—it's not over."
Damian nodded once.
The days that followed were a haze of unease.
The following days passed in a haze of anxiety. Arcadia lay under a dull, gray sky. The once vibrant market squares closed up early, while the palace halls were filled with hurried footsteps and quiet conversations.
