Malrik POV

The ride to Strowhowl took three hours and fifteen minutes fifteen more than it should have. A checkpoint just outside the county had clogged traffic, forcing us into a crawl. The guards, recognizing who I was, eventually waved us through without resistance, but the delay still gnawed at me. Bureaucracy always eager to waste time.

By the time we pulled up to the Council’s estate, the tight coil of frustration in my chest had sharpened into something more acute. Vladan and I ...