Elias was summoned just after midday by a slip of parchment left on his worktable, sealed in wax the color of old blood.
"Royal Wing. Immediate attendance."
It read.
No explanation. No courtesy.
Elias stared at it for a long moment, fingers resting on the edge of the table until the faint tremor in his hand began again.
Cassian was nowhere near the Royal Wing today.
He knew that already.
The Council session had been announced at dawn—closed doors, northern envoys present, the Prince required for the full duration. No interruptions permitted.
Cassian had gone immediately he left Elias's room.
'It was definitely planned.'
The thought came unbidden, sour and heavy.
But by whom, he couldn't tell.
Elias folded the parchment carefully and slid it into his pocket. He washed his hands, slowly, until the water ran clear and the shaking eased into something he could hide by clenching his fingers.
He didn't allow himself to sit to rest.
If he did he might not get back up.
