Kasper didn't look up immediately when I entered. He was leaning over a spread of digital tablets and ancient, vellum maps that looked like they might crumble if he breathed too hard. The desk lamp cast long, angular shadows across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion he tried so hard to mask behind that silver plate he called a face. For a moment, he was just a man drowning in a sea of logistics, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the wood.
You have a habit of ignoring my suggestions regarding sleep, he said, his voice dropping the jagged edge of authority he'd used in the ballroom. He finally looked up, his amber eyes tracking the way I clutched the silk robe at my throat.
I walked to the edge of the desk, my bare feet silent on the rug. I didn't say a word. I simply placed the locket on top of the map he'd been studying—a topographical layout of the Kian border. The tarnished silver looked like a piece of debris in his high-tech sanctuary.
