By the time the women emerged from the baths, the underground room had grown quieter. The loyalists had eaten and rested where they could, most of them huddled together on old mats and cloths laid across the stone floor. The innkeeper moved about briskly, whispering instructions to his old helper as they cleared the bowls and refilled lamps.
Lucas had been moved to a more private corner, covered with a thick woolen blanket. The Empress sat near him now, her expression solemn as she watched the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing had steadied, but his skin was pale and cold, the backlash from the Empress's Qi explosion still gnawing through his body.
The door at the far end creaked open. The innkeeper looked up quickly, wiping his hands on his apron. "They're here," he said quietly, glancing toward the Empress.
"Who?" Seraphine asked, standing with alert eyes.
Before he could answer, several figures appeared from the shadows.
