Ivara's POV
The carriage wheels rattled softly over the cobbled path, the sound oddly soothing against the chaos still spinning in my chest.
Elodie said no cars were allowed during the festival week—it was a traditional celebration, and everything was rooted in the old ways.
I clutched the edge of the velvet seat, staring out through the narrow window at the world I had never imagined.
We had left the royal fortress and, honestly, I hadn’t even known there was anything beyond them. Not to mention, a village.
There were people moving through lantern-lit streets, children laughing as they ran between stalls selling spiced wine and honey cakes. Hell, it looked peaceful in this part of Dark Hound.
What surprised me most was how different the village was from the medieval fortress grounds
