The next morning, Devandra stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, sipping wine far too early in the day. His reflection merged with the city skyline beyond the glass.

“Raga,” he said without turning.

“Yes, sir?” Raga answered, standing rigidly at the door.

“She met Liora last night.”

Raga stiffened. “You already know?”

Devandra chuckled darkly, swirling the wine in his glass. “Of course I know. Nothing escapes me. Do you think I’d let my two favorite pawns meet without surveillance?” He finally turned, his eyes gleaming like polished steel. “They think they’re clever. But they’ve walked right into my trap.”

Raga hesitated. “What do you want...