Sasha exited the room moments later, the door closing quietly behind him. He nodded briefly to each of the guards on either side of the hallway as he came down the stairs; it was a quiet acknowledgement, but it was significant coming from him. Without saying a word, they returned the respect by quietly straightening up. His mood coiled tighter with every step. The southern wing. Of course that bastard wouldn't even wait for a formal summons. Not that he would ever invite him willingly. Typical Silas, bold enough to show his face yet too cowardly to face the consequences of his past.
He considered leaving him to spend the entire day in that draughty reception area.
But before he reached the end of the hallway, a tall figure leaned against the stone wall near the council chamber entrance, blond hair tangled at his nape, one leg bent and foot braced against the stone, a half-eaten apple in his hand.
"Oriel," Sasha muttered, halting.
