EMILI
Not even two days had passed since the forest incident when Amelia entered Alaric’s room, where I was still resting. It was five in the morning, and her expression promised nothing good.
“The King leaves in an hour,” she said, placing clean clothes on the chair. “And you’re going with him.”
“What? But I can barely—”
“His orders. Get dressed.”
She left without further explanation. I sat up with a groan. My ribs still protested with every movement, and the silver burns on my wrists throbbed beneath the bandages. But I had learned that when Alaric gave an order, there was no debate.
I dressed slowly, biting my lip with every motion that stretched my ribs. When I reached the foyer, the atmosphere felt different than usual. There was tension in the air—guards moving urgently, hushed
