By morning Morgain Castle carried the stir that comes over a house only before something important. Servants went through the upper halls with garment cases and travel chests stamped with the family crest, and guards stood at junctions normally empty, checking names against lists.
Trafalgar watched from the edge of the main gallery. The Council called for no army, but House Morgain had never arrived anywhere looking unready, least of all with the other seven watching how they came through the door.
Formal clothes had been laid out before breakfast, papers setting out the order of departure in more detail than the business needed. Most of it could wait.
His attention went to one of the rings on his hand instead, his thumb passing slowly over the dark surface of the Hollowvault Signet.
It was empty.
For now.
