Cassin’s POV

I didn’t sleep that night. My tie was still around my neck like a noose, but I hadn’t moved from my seat.

The city stretched below, glinting in gold and cold blue. Hoping that I can at least concentrate more, but my thoughts keep running back to the little boy in Amara’s coach.

“My son.” I mounted out.

The words still felt foreign. Sacred. And sickening. Because I hadn’t been there. Not for the first step, the first word, the night terrors, the fevers. All ...