[Royal Academy Dormitory Block S]
The sun hung high, washing the room in a pale gold glow through sheer curtains.
The dorm was too quiet for the hour. Because mostly Students were seated in their usual classes.
Caspian lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. One arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, fingers drumming in thought.
"They let me go too easily…"
He blinked.
"No real cross-questioning. No magical bindings. No truth hex. They asked basic questions anyone would if they found someone associated with Kismet... but for an organization like this."
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temple.
'I should've been under magical surveillance by now. Was Kismet wrong about the influence of the Outlings? Or... is their reach far enough that they don't need to show teeth?'
He sighed.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice—soft, but piercing.
"What's got you thinking so hard?"
He snapped to the side, reaching for the dagger beneath his pillow out of pure reflex.
