Nearby, Nora and Noah were being pushed through agility drills, weaving between posts while dodging swinging logs. Noah barely managed to duck, but Nora got hit in the shoulder and tumbled.
She hissed but stood back up, wiping dirt from her cheek. "Again."
Noah nodded beside her, "Again."
They had been pampered once—but no longer.
Roland, watching from the manor balcony above, stood with arms crossed. His eyes didn't miss a single movement. He saw their exhaustion—but also their growing determination.
He nodded silently.
Inside, Roan stood beside a table spread with parchment and ink. Across from him, Priya, poised and focused, helped sort through intelligence reports. She was the only one of Roland's wives not currently pregnant, and so had assumed the role of wartime aide.
Roland walked in.
"What have you found?" he asked, voice sharp with growing unease.
Roan's face darkened.
"My lord… we might be in serious trouble this time."
Roland's brow furrowed. "What happened?"
