CHAPTER III
THE COST OF REMAINING
Night settled over Frostgate without ceremony. Snow thickened along the parapets, dulling the stone and swallowing sound until even footsteps seemed hesitant to exist. Torches burned low along the walls, their light held close, as though unwilling to travel far.
Luciel Vaelor stood alone upon the eastern rampart.
Below him, the city rested uneasily. Doors were barred earlier than usual. Windows glowed and dimmed in quick succession. Voices carried, then fell silent, as if words themselves feared being overheard.
Jayden Mournfell approached quietly. He did not announce himself.
"They have not left," he said.
Luciel did not turn.
"No," he replied. "They won't."
"The emissary?"
"He will remain until morning. Long enough to be seen. Not long enough to be blamed."
Jayden rested his forearms against the stone, following Luciel's gaze outward into the dark.
"And the coffers."
"They stay."
Jayden hesitated.
"For how long?"
Luciel answered without pause.
"Until they become inconvenient."
That earned a glance.
"Meaning."
Luciel finally looked at him.
"When others ask why they are still here."
The wind shifted, bringing with it the faint creak of wood from below. Wagons settling. Horses stamping against cold.
Jayden drew his cloak tighter.
"Logan disagrees."
Luciel's mouth curved faintly.
"Logan disagrees with most things," he said. "That is why he survives."
As if summoned by the mention, Logan Hardwyck emerged from the stairwell behind them. Snow clung to his shoulders. His breath steamed in the cold.
"You left them too much," he said.
Luciel returned his gaze to the dark.
"I left them less than they wanted."
"They wanted absolution."
"They wanted delay."
Logan leaned against the wall, his weight settling into the stone as though he had done so many times before.
"And you gave them neither."
Luciel nodded once.
Jayden shifted uneasily.
"If they move against us."
"They won't," Luciel said.
Logan glanced at him.
"Not openly."
Luciel met his eyes.
"Not yet."
Silence followed. Not empty. Not calm. It pressed close, like snow against a shuttered door.
Jayden broke it.
"The city feels it," he said. "Whatever this is."
"Yes," Luciel said. "Cities always do."
He gestured faintly toward the darkened streets.
"Men listen when markets change. Women listen when children sleep poorly. Walls listen when they are walked too often by guards who pretend not to be afraid."
Logan's gaze hardened.
"You speak as though this is already decided."
Luciel considered that.
"Not decided," he said. "Committed."
Jayden frowned.
"To what."
Luciel turned fully now, facing them both.
"To consequence."
Below them, a bell rang once. Not from the tower. From within the city. A private signal. A door opened where one had not before.
Logan's hand moved to his sword, stopping halfway.
"That isn't ours."
"No," Luciel said. "It belongs to someone who believes they have been quiet enough."
Jayden's voice lowered.
"Should we stop it."
Luciel shook his head.
"No. Let them speak."
Logan studied him.
"And when speaking becomes choosing."
Luciel's eyes were steady.
"Then they will be counted."
The wind carried a murmur upward. Not words. Just sound. Movement where there should have been rest.
Jayden swallowed.
"You're letting this happen."
Luciel nodded.
"I am allowing it to be seen."
Logan exhaled slowly.
"That never ends cleanly."
Luciel's gaze drifted back to the road beyond Frostgate, where darkness lay thick and unbroken.
"Clean endings are for stories told after the fact," he said. "We are still inside this one."
Snow continued to fall.
Somewhere within the city, another door opened.
And Frostgate, ancient and watchful, bore the weight of quiet a little longer, knowing now that silence no longer meant safety, only time measured carefully before it ran out.