The large house was more subdued, but it was not the silence of peace. It was the silence of fear, a silence that was thick like a burial pall. The soldiers no longer joked in the courtyards or dallied over food. They stood taller, looking swiftly at shadows, and their voices were brusque. Everyone felt the change. Everyone knew that the commander was unraveling.
Dante was ever cruel, but once he had control of his cruelty, a sharp sword very finely honed. Now the sword shook. He became suspicious in everything he did. He prowled the halls like a storm seeking something to devastate.
Isla first saw it in the way he questioned his soldiers.
Who addressed the traders peddling goods at the port?" he thundered one evening, his voice echoing off the great hall. His officers looked at each other nervously. "Someone has spoken. Someone has not been careful.".
