Torren moved in closer—close enough that Cassian could smell the faint tang of ash and steel sweat. “You’re not here to play. You’re here because the king thinks you might be useful. More importantly,shethinks you might be useful.”
She.
Of course he meant Seraphine.
Cassian’s jaw twitched. “If she didn’t think I could handle myself, I wouldn’t be breathing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Torren said. “Seraphine doesn’t always choose the safest fire. She chooses the one that burns hot enough to finish the job.”
“Good. I like a little heat.”
Torren’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
The silence stretched. Then, voice low: “Don’t get close to her.”
Cassian’s smile dropped.
“That a threat?”
“No,” the man said. “It’s a fucking prophecy.” He turned and stalked off down the hall without another word.
Cassian stood there a beat longer, heart ticking a little faster than he liked.
Don’t get close to her.
Too late for that.
He’d already started watching how her mouth moved when she gave orders. How she flexed her fingers before touching flame. How her eyes went distant when she was in thought.
Cassian swore under his breath and followed the path down to the war courtyard.
The “team”was waiting.
Three stood in a loose cluster near a supply wagon stacked with rations, packs, and weapons. They turned when he approached, all giving him some version of a once-over.
The first was a tall woman with short-cropped hair and scaled gauntlets. Drakar forge-born, if he had to guess. Her fire simmered low and steady, like coals that had been burning for days.
“Commander Lira,” she said with a nod. “Shieldmaster.”
Cassian returned it.
The second was a lean panther shifter dressed in deep gray, his movements too fluid, too smooth. Umbraclaw, clearly. Eyes too sharp, mouth too quiet.
“Alek,” the man said. “Veil tracker. I don’t talk much.”
Cassian nodded. “Good. I talk too much.”
The last was barely more than a kid—fiery-haired, maybe seventeen. His robes were scorched at the cuffs, but his eyes held a jittery eagerness Cassian recognized all too well.
“Name’s Brann. I’m, uh... magical support?”
Cassian raised a brow. “Support as in?—”
“I can read Hollow sigils and set fire wards and maybe explode things if I sneeze wrong.”
“Good to know.”
Seraphine’s voice cut through the air from behind him. “He’s also expendable.”
