They're studying the camp.
Everyone believes they're observing Cassian.
Then Barek notices something impossible.
The patrols…
aren't protecting the camp.
They're protecting…
them.
Every patrol rotation subtly keeps Asarmose's group hidden from other soldiers.
Almost like…
Cassian wants them to remain exactly where they are.
That realization is terrifying.
Before anyone can react—
someone begins clapping.
Slow.
Measured.
Behind them.
Every member of the scouting party spun toward the sound instinctively.
Hands flew to sword hilts.
Bows lifted.
Breaths stilled.
Cassian?.
No.
A lone man stepped forward.
He wore the black and silver colors of the Vanguard, though his uniform bore none of the elaborate insignia expected of a commander.
He smiled politely.
"My lord wondered how long it would take before you realized."
Nobody answered.
The officer looked almost amused by their silence.
"I must admit…"
His eyes drifted briefly toward Alistair.
