Veyra froze.
For a heartbeat, the dagger pressing against Simon's scales stopped moving. Her cold smile stiffened on her face.
"What are you talking about?"
Simon looked at her calmly.
"You don't have to pretend anymore."
He pushed her dagger back another inch.
"This body is a fake. And you aren't Veyra."
Her eyes narrowed.
"If I'm right," Simon continued, "then the real Veyra is either dead or captured. Most likely from the moment she returned to check on her post."
He let his gaze drift past her shoulder toward the city. Toward the terraces, the white streets, the stairways leading down into the shelters.
"And if this is the worst-case scenario," he said quietly, "then your people are already inside the city."
Veyra's face changed.
The cold smile vanished completely. Her green eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked genuinely shaken.
"How did you…?" Her voice dropped. "Who the hell are you?"
Simon smiled lightly.
