Morning came softly to the capital.
Jason watched it arrive from the top of the council hall's outer stairs, sitting on the cold white stone with his elbows on his knees. The sky over the rooftops went from black to grey to a pale, washed-out gold. Bells began to ring somewhere in the merchant district.
Smoke rose from a hundred chimneys. Somewhere below him, a baker was shouting at an apprentice for burning the first batch.
It was so normal it almost hurt.
Footsteps came up the stairs behind him. Light. Unhurried. He didn't need to turn around.
Thalindra Moonwhisper stopped one step above him. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The night still hung between them, unspoken, the way the last notes of a song hang in a room after the music stops.
"You did not sleep," she said at last.
"Didn't feel like it."
"You are leaving."
