Min-jae stood there long after the footsteps faded.
So even here, silence was survival.
He would have to let Gael know who he was soon, if he wanted to communicate with Meical then Gael had to be included the plan.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. If he wanted to pass anything meaningful to Meical, Gael could not remain an outsider.
Gael worked these stables every day. He heard what others dismissed. He noticed what guards overlooked.
Gael would have to be brought into the circle.
A gruff voice cut through his thoughts.
"Clara."
Min-jae straightened at once.
The master of the stables stood near the entrance, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, his beard streaked with gray and straw.
His name was Bram, a man whose authority rested more on volume than kindness.
"The guards are taking a break," Bram said.
"They want ale. Move."
Min-jae bowed deeply and lifted the tray without hesitation.
