The cold mist still clung to the base of the mountain when the armored escort arrived.
Selene and Noel walked in silence, flanked by warriors clad in the white-and-steel colors of House Iskandar. Their breath misted in the morning air, footsteps echoing over the frost-bitten stone path leading toward the waiting stronghold.
As they crossed beneath the gates, the doors opened without ceremony.
Waiting inside, standing tall at the center of the hall, was Lady Vaelora von Iskandar—her back straight, arms behind her, expression carved from frozen stone.
The moment Selene stepped into view, Vaelora's gaze sharpened.
"So," she said coldly, "you thought sneaking away was a good idea?"
She took a slow step forward.
"Prepare yourself. When we return home, you'll answer for it properly."
Noel glanced at Selene.
She hadn't said a word since the gate. But now—he saw it. Her shoulders had stiffened, eyes downcast, fingers trembling at her sides.
There was fear there. Raw and deep.
