Thorn's POV
My private receiving room was quiet.
Not the throne room. Not the war room. The small room off my personal chambers where the real work happened..
My man from Dravara's court had just left. He had been standing in that spot where the light from the window fell across his face, reporting in the low, careful voice he used when he was carrying information that mattered. I had listened without interrupting. I always listened without interrupting. Interrupting made people defensive. Defensive made them forget things.
Now I sat alone with what I had been told.
I processed the intelligence in order. The way I processed everything. By weight. Not by arrival.
First: the audience. The Voice had been granted a formal audience before the queen and her full council. Unmasked. The man behind the movement had stood in the throne room, and the queen had let him speak. She had not arrested him. She had not silenced him. She had listened.
