Dorian’s pov.

By the time I crossed the final ridge into the kingdom, the weight in my chest felt heavier than the sword on my back. The air smelled too clean, too untouched by war, and that only made my gut twist harder.

Cassian was already waiting near the gates, arms crossed, cloak flapping in the sharp breeze.

"Finally," he said, striding toward me. "We’ve got a fucking problem."

I dismounted in one motion. "You think I didn’t know that the moment you ...