Cassius

The letter trembled imperceptibly in Cassius's grip before he set it down with deliberate care. To any observer, his expression remained carved from marble—impassive, controlled, revealing nothing of the storm raging beneath.

But Rael had served as his right hand for fifteen years. He caught the telltale signs others would miss: the infinitesimal relaxation of tension around Cassius's eyes, the way his fingers lingered on the parchment's edge, the barely perceptible exhale that might ...