He rubbed a trace of grit slowly between thumb and forefinger, testing it, feeling disruption where no disruption should have been.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"There."
Marcus stepped closer and frowned. He saw only stone.
"What?"
Thessian pointed.
A single dark thread caught against a rough edge of rock, nearly invisible against shadow.
Marcus carefully pulled it free and studied it in his palm. Recognition did not come, but suspicion did.
"This isn't from estate guard uniforms."
"No," Thessian said quietly, though there was certainty in his voice now. "It isn't."
He rose and lifted his gaze toward the wall itself, measuring not merely whether someone could cross it, but how, how quickly, carrying weight, carrying a child.
And then another thought darkened his expression.
If Nyla had been taken through the courtyard, if her scent had been concealed, if no one had seen her leave, then whoever had done this had not merely moved unseen.
They had accounted for being hunted.
