Chapter 4 The Hidden Trap

• I already knew who had smiled the widest at my funeral. His name was Dorian Vex.
• Thirty-two. Silver-tongued. Always close enough to Caspian’s inner circle to be dangerous, never close enough to be held accountable. Men like Dorian were kept untitled on purpose. Titles created records. Records created questions. Questions created trouble.
• Dorian avoided all three. He had spent years making himself useful through quiet favors and careful loyalties. The first time, I had been stupid enough to think he was kind. He had a way of appearing at the edges of a crisis with a hand on a shoulder and a soft word. I had mistaken his surveillance for sympathy.