The transition from the sterile, hushed corridors of House Valmont to the raw energy of the city was like a physical blow. Cassia kept her head down, the shawl pulled tight enough to hide the crest on her collar, but her eyes were darting everywhere.
She wasn't just looking for John; she was looking at the people.
The decline she had read about in the Duke's reports wasn't just data anymore. It was in the hollow cheeks of the children darting through the mud and the way the merchants defended their meager stalls with a desperate, bared-teeth intensity. This was the "human cost" Matron Elowen Thorne always spoke of during council meetings.
"Looking for some quick work, girl?" a man grumbled, his voice gravelly as he hauled a crate of rotted meat.
"No, thank you," Cassia murmured, quickening her pace.
