Later that night, the silence of the estate was disrupted only by the wind rustling through the corridor banners. Lucien stood alone in the war chamber, the map from earlier still open on the table. But his eyes weren't on the territory markings; he was tracing his memory, retracing each detail of Liora's expression.
She had flinched when he asked if she was hiding something.
Lucien wasn't a man given to superstition, but he believed in patterns. And Liora's pattern was shifting.
Rowan entered quietly, glancing at the map.
"You're still looking at Petra's lines?" he asked.
"No," Lucien muttered, "I'm looking for something that's not here."
He didn't say what.
Rowan stood beside him. "Samuel sent word. One of the border posts near Miral's edge has gone dark. No communication in two days."
Lucien didn't flinch, but he exhaled slowly. "Miral again."
"You think it's related?"
Lucien didn't answer right away. "No attacks. No signs of struggle. Just silence."
