Elara’s body went rigid, every muscle locking into a statue of forced calm.
She knew that voice.
It was a sound that had haunted nightmares and corrupted dreams for years.
Princess Lyanna.
The formation slowed.
Instinctively.
Fearfully.
Lyanna walked into view, a vision of lethal elegance, flanked by guards whose hands rested too comfortably on their sword hilts.
Her gaze swept over the soldiers, not with the glance of a ruler checking her troops, but with the slow, predatory scrutiny of a wolf inspecting a trap.
Searching.
Measuring.
Enjoying the fear.
«“Leaving so suddenly, Commander?”» Her voice was silk wrapped around a blade.
Vaelith did not turn quickly.
He turned with the deliberate, terrifying calm of a man who had already calculated every possible outcome and found t
