Xavier spread Naomi's hand-drawn map across the obsidian desk, tracing guard routes with his finger.
The volcanic stone walls of his chamber bled a warmth that should have been comforting, but it was a heat Xavier couldn't feel.
He paused at the window, looking out at Hearthome's terraced slopes. Somewhere in the temple district, Ashley was preparing to push her broken abilities past their limits. Margaret was gathering final intelligence from the archives' outer chambers. Naomi continued mapping security rotations while maintaining her servant disguise.
All of them depending on him to make the right choices.
A leader carries the weight of others' lives, he thought, remembering the frozen faces of Dalen, Gareth, Marta. The caravan members who'd died because he'd led them into the Knight's territory.
