Miguel stepped into the map room, a folded piece of parchment clamped tightly in his hand. Diego and I both snapped our heads toward him, Diego’s eyebrows arching in immediate inquiry.
"He’s waiting at the border line, Ophelia," Miguel said, clearing his throat as his eyes shifted nervously between the two of us. "He's completely unarmed. Standing under a white banner right at the river fork."
"Silas," I said, shifting my gaze to the strategic grid pinned to the table. My silver-hilted daggers rested flat beside the perimeter markers.
"He sent a private runner," Miguel confirmed, taking a cautious step into the room. "He claims he came without his father’s knowledge. He’s practically on his knees begging for ten minutes alone with you."
Before I could even open my mouth for a statement
