They moved up the broad stone steps in a line, the three of them flanked by soldiers who watched every face that passed with automatic suspicion. Seraphine's fingers found Edward's arm and curled around it; she squeezed once, as if seeking something steady. The tightness in her grip made him oddly aware of the weight of the tokens warm in their pockets.
Before they could even reach the heavy doors, a half-dozen guards barred their path. Helmets gleamed under the sun, spears catching the light like a forest of thin stars. One of the sentries stepped forward with a curt, professional air and blocked their way.
Aeris, never one for needless delays, slid her hand into her pocket and produced the chief's token with a quick, practised motion. She held it up without a word. The soldier's eyes flicked to it, then to her, then to the chief's residence behind them. A silent conversation passed between the men—glances, a hushed murmur—and finally the lead soldier inclined his head.
