The following morning, the sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Lyra’s bedroom, casting long, golden stripes across the rumpled sheets. Cassian was already dressed, his suit pressed and his expression back to its customary stone-faced neutrality. He stood by the window, checking his watch.
Lyra stirred, stretching like a cat. She looked up at him, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Good morning, Cassian. Did you sleep well?"
"I didn't sleep," he replied, his voice flat. "I spent the last four hours reviewing the perimeter logs for the upcoming gala."
Lyra groaned, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. "You're doing it again. The Wall is back. Where did that man from last night go? The one who told me to shut up?"
Cassian turned to look a
