The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” I said finally, feeling like being hypnotized by his intense gaze. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve faced worse.”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his stare fixed on the passing scenery outside the carriage window. “You shouldn’t have to,” he muttered, almost too quietly for me to hear.
The words lingered in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I looked down at my hands, my thoughts swirling. Why did he care so much? Why did his anger on my behalf feel so… personal? And why, despite everything, did it make me feel a strange sense of comfort? A sense of safety?
When we arrived at the palace, the tension didn’t ease. Rigz was at my side the moment I stepped out of the carriage,
