Kaelis was at the maps.
She had known he would be. She had walked the corridor from the east wing to the war room with the document pressed against her ribs and the deadline sitting in her chest and she had not been surprised when she pushed the door open and found exactly what she had known she would find — the king and his general standing over the long table with its colored markings and its careful calculations, two men who had been doing this long enough that the maps had become a language they spoke between themselves without needing to name what they were saying.
Raven looked up first.
That was always how it was. Raven's awareness of a room's entry point was a reflex so deeply ingrained it had stopped being a choice a long time ago. He registered her, his expression doing nothing in particular, and then he looked back at the map.
Kaelis looked up a half second later.
