Jett sank into the velvet cushions of his private carriage mansion, the wheels idling on cobblestones slick with evening dew. The glow of lanterns through latticed windows painted stripes of gold and shadow across his boots. He folded one leg over the other, fingertips tapping against the armrest as he stared at the night skyline of the Northern Wall capital. The city's spires pressed against a low-hanging moon, their silhouettes as sharp as blades guarding ancient secrets.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. What now? he thought, gaze drifting to the empty seat opposite him. The carriage's warmth seeped into his cloak, but it did little to chase the restlessness coiled in his chest.
