Zil was already moving under a false assumption.
In her mind, Cain had seen through her. Not just the disguise, but the impossible. The City of Roses was not a name spoken lightly. It was not a place known to nobles, scholars, or even most royalty. To her, the question could only mean one thing. Exposure.
But that was not the truth.
Cain had not uncovered her identity. He had not seen through the veil of secrecy that surrounded the Rose Squad. What he had noticed was far simpler and far more human.
Zil carried herself in a way that was familiar.
The posture. The economy of movement. The way she spoke only when necessary and never wasted words. The way her eyes observed rather than demanded attention. All of it reminded him of the maid who had been by his side for most of his childhood. The woman who had brushed his hair, corrected his posture, and quietly stood between him and danger without ever announcing herself.
That maid had once mentioned the City of Roses.
