Alexander:
The war room had always smelled like iron and cedar.
It was dark with plots, and filled with maps that I tended to actually forget the amount of.
Tonight, it smelled like memory.
One that I intended to keep safe.
Marcel stood across from me, one hand braced against the long oak table, maps scattered beneath his palm. His jaw was tight. Controlled. But I knew him well enough to see the storm behind his eyes.
Lucien had begun moving pieces again, and I knew that he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
“They are making plans and they’re gathering allies. They think that they can start this war, but if it actually does start; the blood spilled is going to be worse than anything that goes around.” Marcel said, and I nodded, knowing that this was not going to be ending
