Adrien.
I spotted her before she saw me—Maria, storming out of Davian's room, her steps sharp and rigid, the kind of determined stride that made it clear she was angry. A piece of paper was clenched tightly in her hand, edges crumpled slightly from the force of her grip. Her anger radiated from her like heat, a visible tension that made the air around her feel heavier. I followed her with my eyes a moment longer, taking in the set of her shoulders, the sharp tilt of her chin, before finally stepping inside the room.
"Davian," I asked, my voice steady but edged with concern, careful not to let my worry show too much. "What happened?"
He looked up at me, calm and precise, his features almost unreadable. His expression gave nothing away, and yet there was a weight in his eyes that told me he knew the situation was serious. "We sent Maria on an errand," he explained quietly. "She was to retrieve the ceremonial shawl for Vanessa."
