THE COLD CORRIDOR of the Polar Tower echoed with steel footsteps and voices restrained by duty. Two guards led Thomas, bruised and silent, down the hall. Shackles hung loosely at his wrists, not for punishment, but because Theo couldn’t bring himself to bind him any tighter.
From the shadows, Theo watched his brother, his blue-green eyes unreadable, his cloak still dusted with the frost of the night air.
Cassiel stood at his side, arms crossed.
“You’re sending him back to the palace?” Cassiel asked.
Theo nodded. “Put him on the south wing. Isolated, but safe and away from Rufus.”
Cassiel frowned. “He’ll see it as exile.”
Theo’s voice was low, but firm. “It’s for his protection.”
As the guards passed, Thomas glanced up. His eyes held confusion, anger, and burning with betrayal as
