Kaelen let the gold-trimmed scroll snap shut, tossing it onto the cedar table beside his empty chestnut shells.
“Ten days,” Kaelen murmured, leaning back into his wicker chair. “That gives me two hundred and forty hours. Just enough time for a solid week of afternoon naps.”
Elder Sterling winced, his gray eyebrows twitching with exasperation.
“Kaelen, this isn’t an invitation to a tea tasting,” Sterling said, leaning his heavy broadsword against the porch post. “The Grand Regent’s ministers are arriving with two thousand elite blades. Patriarch Morvane has summoned every pill syndicate in the province.”
“Then let them sweat,” Kaelen replied smoothly. “Rushing around in the heat only ruins your complexion.”
Sterling shook his head, scowling down at the valley.
“The Sky-Bridge is suspended between two granite peaks over the river,” Sterling explained, crossing his arms. “It has three tiers. The merchant bazaar sits on the lower deck, the sect pavilions occupy the middle span, and the Sovereign Dais towers over the center. You can’t simply ignore it.”
“Can we send a carrier pigeon with my bids?” Kaelen asked mildly. “Walking across a mile-long suspension bridge sounds terrible for my arches.”
