Chapter 94. The Duke Without Drums

Night laid its hand on the Vesper camp like a blessing they didn’t deserve. We’d already stolen their drums, salted their pitch, and lit half their wagons, but the Duke’s tent still held the ward that could stitch his army’s spine back together. If we didn’t cut it tonight, tomorrow’s fight would have their rhythm again — and ours in pieces.

“Small team,” Syra said, bringing a map to the lantern and turning it so I didn’t have to tilt my head. “Two paths. One that looks true. One that is. We take the truth.”

“You don’t like the drama?” Neris teased.

“I like returning with all my parts,” Syra said.

Kael stood quiet at the edge of the lamplight, a shadow with a heartbeat I could track without trying. He didn’t need to be asked to come; he needed to be convinced to stay. I didn’t try. This one wanted both of us.

Orla handed me a thin coil of filament, polished to a whisper. “Stay skin-close,” she said. “If the wards flex, this will say no louder than your