Aria passed through the fortress gates at dawn, her cloak still damp from the night’s downpour. Though she did her best to slip in without fanfare, news had already traveled faster than she could. Several of the watchmen exchanged uneasy glances at her return, murmurs drifting like cinders in the chilly air.
Squaring her shoulders, she brushed past them. Her thoughts lingered on the storm-soaked cabin and the raw, electric encounter that still thrummed through her veins. She pushed those images aside, focusing on the fortress’s cold stone corridors and the confrontation awaiting her.
At the main hall, Layla Stormborn stood near the grand table, her stance as rigid as the spears mounted on the walls. Her golden eyes flashed when she spotted her daughter.
“Where have you been?” Layla dema
