Jian opened the door himself.
Yuan had half-expected a servant, or at least a beat of confusion before the prince registered who was standing in his corridor at an hour that belonged to no one. Instead Jian was already awake, robe loosely tied, hair down around his shoulders in a way Yuan had never seen and immediately regretted noticing, because now was not the time.
"Yuan Wei." Jian's gaze dropped to the bundle clutched against his chest, and whatever softness had been in his face a second ago sharpened into something much more alert. "What happened."
"Can I come in?"
Jian stepped back without another word.
The door shut behind them, and Yuan set the maps down on the low table with hands that had gone unsteady again now that the hardest part — knocking — was over. He untied the cloth with more care than his nerves wanted to allow, and laid the pages out in the candlelight, watching Jian's face instead of the maps themselves, because he already knew what they said.
