Master Finn's chambers in the archives were exactly what you'd expect from a scholar. Books everywhere, papers stacked in precarious towers, the smell of old parchment and ink. He looked up when we entered, his elderly face showing what appeared to be genuine relief.
"Your Majesties! Thank the gods you're safe! Commander Petra told me there was an attack at the mill. I've been so worried!" He started to stand but the guards flanking him moved slightly, reminding him he wasn't free to move.
"Sit down, Master Finn," Kael said coldly. "We need to talk."
The scholar's expression shifted from relief to confusion to the barest hint of wariness. "Of course. Whatever you need. Though I must say, the guards seem excessive for a simple conversation."
"They're not excessive if the person we're talking to is a traitor."
The word hung in the air between us. Master Finn's face went very still, very calm. The kind of calm that comes from practice, from having prepared for this moment.
