Evelisse narrowed her eyes. 'Diversion? What diversion?'
"Someone from the Council is with us," one of the prisoners whispered. His voice trembled with the weight of his own words. "High-ranking. We were told they'd delay the prince."
Her blood ran cold. That wasn't in Arkrael's plan.
She stepped forward, cloak rustling ominously against the stone. The illusion of Arkrael's imposing figure towered over them. The prisoners looked up, mouths dry, unable to meet her eyes.
"Speak clearly," she said, her tone now like crushed ice. "Who is this 'someone'?"
"We don't know! They wore a mask—never showed their face," the second man replied quickly. "Just... they said they were from the Council. Spoke with authority. And said..."
"Said what?" Evelisse pressed, voice growing darker.
He hesitated, then blurted out, "That you wouldn't interfere. That this plan had more weight than your orders."
