The hour grew late, the imperial palace hushed, only the distant Royal Guard patrols broke the quiet. Viana lingered in her study, the map still lay open on the desk.
Her gaze, however , rested not on its etched lines, but on the heavy, carved door. She had sent a messenger. Rayne was coming.
One final person needed to understand. He had to grasp the full depth of her plan. His cooperation, his silence, felt paramount.
The door creaked softly and Rayne stepped inside. His nightclothes seemed a bit rumpled, as if he'd just gotten out of bed. But his blue eyes were sharp, fully awake.
"Princess Viana," he greeted. His voice was low, a polite question in his tone. "You wished to speak?"
Viana rose from her chair, and walked around the desk, then stood before him. A prickle of nerves ran through her.
