The guard at the east gate shifted uneasily as Ella approached.
“He asked for you," the man said.
“Who?"
The guard's eyes flicked toward the small stone outbuilding near the wall. “Liam. Says it's important."
Ella almost turned away. Almost. But something in the guard's expression—wariness, not sympathy—made her step inside.
---
Liam was waiting, leaning against the wall like he'd been rehearsing his posture.
“You're hard to get alone," he said.
“Maybe I don't want to be alone with you."
“Then I'll be quick." He straightened, voice lowering. “Gilbert isn't the savior he plays at. He's a tyrant in polite clothing."
She crossed her arms. “I've seen tyrants. They smell like old beer and burnt fur."
“I'm serious," he pressed. “Help me remove him. We can build something better—a pack
