“They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice calm and steady.
He glanced down at her hand covering his. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet hers in the mirror.
“There were soldiers,” he said hoarsely. “The King’s Guard… They sounded ready to drag me out in chains.”
River nodded, her expression soft but unreadable.
“It seems your uncle sent them,” she confirmed. “He probably heard about the… disturbance.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The slight twitch of his jaw said enough.
Sensing that pushing would do more harm than good, River released his hand and quietly turned, stepping back into the bedroom.
To her relief, amidst the chaos of shattered porcelain and overturned furniture, a single intact decanter of lemonade stood miraculously untouched on a side table. A small mercy.
