The study was exactly as I had left it hours before—ordered, still, and smelling of old paper and leather. But the atmosphere had changed. It was no longer just Darius's space; it was a crucible, and I could feel the heat of it from the doorway.
He stood by the window, but he wasn't looking out. He was looking at the slim folder I had sent to him via Eli. It lay on his desk, a stark white rectangle against the dark wood, an accusation and a question all in one. It represented a move by the Prince, a test of my loyalty, and a potential key to a past I hadn't known I needed to unlock.
"You didn't open it," he said. It wasn't a question. His voice was low, devoid of inflection, yet it carried more weight than a shout.
"I sent it to you," I replied, stepping further into the room and closing the door with a soft, definitive click. "I thought that was clear."
