Morning came with the smell of bread and oil drifting through the shutters. Inigo rose first, as always. The city's noise had barely begun, only the distant clatter of carts and the cries of gulls along the river. He cracked eggs into a pan, the sizzle filling the room.
Lyra sat at the table, chin on her hand, eyes half-lidded. She hadn't slept much, though she'd pretended.
"You're loud," she muttered.
"Breakfast is loud," he answered.
She let the silence stretch before adding, "You didn't believe him, did you?"
"Vane?" Inigo flipped an egg. "I believed enough."
Her eyes sharpened. "Enough to know he wasn't bluffing."
He slid the plate in front of her. "Enough to know the guild will wring him until he talks. And when he does, we'll be the ones they call."
Lyra pushed the egg around with her fork. "And we'll cut again."
His answer was quiet. "If we must."
