The communal hall smells like roasted meat and fresh bread, like heat and comfort and something almost deliberately normal, and for a moment the illusion works so well it almost irritates me.
Laughter moves in soft waves from table to table, bowls pass hand to hand, and the candles lining the long wooden surfaces flicker in steady rows, turning faces warm and ordinary.
Almost too ordinary.
I take my usual seat.
Not beside Landon.
Not far from him either.
Close enough that the bond hums steady and aligned, but not close enough to perform it for anyone watching.
Neutral.
Steady.
If this is theatre, then my part is calm.
Across the hall, I see them.
Not clustered.
Not obvious.
The leak network never sits together.
They scatter.
Stable tradition faction at one table.
Administra
