Kael's pulse hammered in his ears as the echo of the slammed door still reverberated through the darkened chamber.
He froze, his breath caught in his throat, as armored boots clattered just outside.
His fingers curled into fists beneath the cover of his cloak, and he leaned deeper into the shadow of the wall, hidden behind the heavy folds of his hood.
The door creaked open, and light from a lantern spilled into the room, slanting across the stone floor.
A group of men stepped inside, their armor polished but marked with the insignia of a familiar crest.
Kael's chest tightened as he recognized it—the emblem of Cecelia's family. Her household guards.
Their eyes swept the room with the ruthless sharpness of men on a hunt. The lead guard stepped forward, his voice stern and commanding.
"Are there any here who know of a boy named Kael?"
The question hung in the air. Kael felt the weight of it press against him.
