I walked through the double doors, and the voices in the main hall didn't stop so much as pivot. Marcellus was at the head of a long oak table, his golden hair disheveled, a dozen documents spread before him like a fan of bad news.
Julius stood at his right shoulder, arms crossed, his expression the same unreadable mask he wore in the arena. Azrael had claimed the far corner, his presence somehow making the vast room feel smaller.
And Evelina.
She sat at the table's opposite end, her white hair spilling across the dark wood, her crimson eyes finding mine the moment I entered. The ring on her finger caught the chandelier's light, its grey surface shifting through patterns I couldn't follow.
"You took longer than expected," she said.
"The bait talks a lot when you get him going."
"Did you get what you needed?"
"Some of it."
Marcellus looked up from his documents, the shadows under his eyes darker than they'd been this morning.
