Morning came too soon, pale gray light seeping through the hall's windows before any of them had gotten half the rest they needed.
Hannah's bones ached, her magic still feeling thin and drained from the egg's constant pull, and Bart looked like he could have slept another day straight.
Even Theron's knights wore faint shadows beneath their eyes, their posture still sharp but worn thin from the night's tension.
A light, quick breakfast was laid out in the adjoining dining chamber — bread, cured meat, cheese, and warm herbal tea — hardly a noble feast but enough to steady their nerves.
Lord Valerius joined them, his temper somewhat cooled but his jaw still tight as he stared at the group from across the table.
"I won't beat around the bush," he said, setting down his cup with a sharp clink. "The Ghost broke into my manor, and he came for you.
