Deep within the stone foundations of the grand conservatory, Kaelen and Rowan were working side by side.
The space had been entirely cleared out, the long wooden tables now buried under maps of the estate and heavy, leather-bound registries.
Instead of dealing with common guard rotations, the two were strategically pouring over the highly sensitive list of attendants for the upcoming ceremony, meticulously plotting exactly how the elite forces should be stationed around the grounds to keep the Grand Duke's true arrangement safely hidden.
Kaelen was speaking in a low, measured tone, his finger tracing a line down the parchment as he detailed the defensive blind spots.
Rowan, however, wasn't looking at the ledger.
His gaze had drifted, completely bypassing the ink lines to lock onto Kaelen's lips. He found himself helplessly tracking the slight, sharp movements of those lips as Kaelen spoke, completely mesmerized by the quiet precision of his voice.
