Sera Thorne pinned the curling sheepskin map to the iron slag table with two heavy throwing daggers.
The blades bit deep into the black metal, their pommels vibrating with a low hum. Subterranean drafts curled through the ruined Obsidian Furnace bunker, smelling of cold soot and crushed stone.
Kaelen Vance rested his feet on an empty charcoal crate near the hearth.
He had dragged a sagging velvet settee into the dry corner of the command room twenty minutes earlier. The cushions smelled faintly of mildew, but the lumbar support was surprisingly decent. Between his fingers, he held the paper-wrapped spine of Book 7 of The Bandit King’s Secret Bride.
Underground bunkers get a bad reputation, Kaelen thought, shifting his shoulder against the velvet bolster. No sunlight to glare off the page, no academy bells ringing every hour, and the ambient temperature stays at a steady sixty degrees. If the tea kettle had a slightly wider spout, this room would qualify as paradise.
Across the iron table, Princess Valeria stood with both gauntleted hands resting on the map.
Her silver-inlaid breastplate showed deep scratches from the skirmish in the outer valley, but her dark hair was pulled back into a severe warrior’s knot. Beside her, Deacon Vane hovered like an anxious crow, his velvet sleeves pulled up to protect them from iron soot.
