"Perfect," he said, pocketing the key.
The rest of the group relaxed, if only slightly. The long walk through the mist-cloaked streets had worn at them, and even the most hardened among them welcod the idea of proper shelter.
The rooms had been arranged as expected:
Mikhailis finally had a private room, a rare luxury after days of shared campsites and ruined villages. He'd missed the simple pleasure of solitude, a space where he could think without distractions.
Cerys and Vyrelda shared a room, though Cerys's face made it clear that she had resigned herself to Vyrelda's unwavering paranoia. The warrior refused to let her guard down, no matter how safe a place might appear. Cerys, ever the pragmatist, had accepted this as an inevitability.
Lira, as expected, took a separate room, since she couldn't stay in the sa room with Mikhailis, she didn't want to be in the sa room with other two people. Rather than being in a single room with three people inside, she prefer privacy**.**
Estella and Rhea were rood together, their conversation already flowing as they ascended the staircase. They were deep in discussion about the upcoming eting with Prince Laethor's emissary, their words layered with both curiosity and strategic consideration.
Even within the supposed comfort of The Silver Veil, caution remained.
No one voiced it outright, but they all knew the truth—Luthadel had eyes everywhere.
Even in a place that felt secure, there was an unspoken understanding among them all—
They were being watched.
_____
In his private chamber, Mikhailis turned the stolen Technomancer device over in his hands, rolling it between his fingers with a slow, asured curiosity. It was small, sleek, and smooth, its surface cool against his skin despite the faint warmth pulsing beneath its exterior. The hum it emitted was subtle—too subtle to be purely chanical, yet too structured to be purely magical. It was sothing in between, sothing more.
The candlelight flickered, casting a dim glow across the wooden table where the stolen badge lay beside him. The insignia was faint but unmistakable—a mark of Technomancer-aligned authority. It was more than just an identifier; even without thorough analysis, Mikhailis could tell it carried so form of embedded arcane signature. A key to sothing, a pass into sowhere he wasn't supposed to be.
A slow grin crept onto his face.
Rodion's voice chid in, crisp and chanical in his mind.
Mikhailis leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the table as he idly spun the device between his fingers. He wasn't worried. If this thing were dangerous enough to explode, it would've done so already. Besides, there was sothing exhilarating about handling an unknown piece of Technomancer technology. He'd taken plenty of risks before; this was just another puzzle waiting to be solved.
A soft knock on the door. No, not a knock—just the door opening.
Lira entered without hesitation, moving with her usual grace, her dark ponytail swaying slightly as she stepped inside. She didn't need to announce herself—she never did. Her gaze flicked toward the device in his hands, her expression unreadable but keen.
"You're enjoying yourself," she observed.
Mikhailis grinned without looking up. "I do love a good puzzle."
Lira crossed the room with the practiced elegance of soone who had spent a lifeti in control of her every movent. She stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, watching him with those sharp, assessing eyes. "Let guess—Technomancer-made?"
He tossed the device lightly into the air before catching it again. "Bingo."
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she pulled over a chair and sat down with a deliberate ease, as if she were settling in for a conversation she already knew would be tedious. "You realize if that thing is a tracker, you've already announced our presence to whoever lost it."
Mikhailis smirked, unbothered. "A little faith, Lira."
Rodion's voice cut in before she could reply.
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