Every since receiving the letter, Caspian had not slept.
The war room had emptied an hour ago but he'd not left. It still smelled faintly of oil, leather, and damp parchment, and the map before him had been marked and remarked so many times that entire regions were now layered in ink.
"How did she make it all the way there?" He muttered and his guards looked at each other, daring each to speak first.
Caspian's fingers traced the thick map. Vermilion lay to the south-east, circled twice, as if pressing harder would somehow bring her back faster.
"My prince. She's on her way here, remember?," Kira said quietly from where she stood by the window.
Kira was tall and broad-shouldered, her dark braids pulled back tightly, her armor fitted but worn from use rather than ceremony. She had the steady presence of someone who had seen enough chaos to no longer be rattled by it.
Caspian did not look up. "You are assuming I believe the letter."
