Torren took the scroll, its weight heavy in his hand. He tucked it into his tunic, his expression guarded but resolute. "This better work, Valcroft," he said, his voice low, a hint of defiance breaking through.
Dorian chuckled, leaning back. "It will. Nightshade fears no one and definitely doesn't miss. Unlike my men, apparently." His eyes flicked to Evelyne, who remained stone-faced, her runes dimming.
The alcove fell silent, the clink of goblets and the soft tune of the pavilion's music filling the void. Torren stood up, his movements stiff, and adjusted his tunic. "I'll be in touch," he said, turning to leave.
Evelyne stepped aside, her gaze following him like a hawk tracking prey. Dorian raised his goblet in a mock toast, his smirk never fading. "A worthwhile pawn" he muttered.
***
