(Ojore’s POV)
Golden Dragon and I reached the grove too late.
Brin stood in the clearing like a mountain with a heartbeat, arms crossed, jaw tense.
Lucian had slipped through.
Golden Dragon exhaled, leaning one shoulder against a tree with the ease of a man who could flatten armies and yet refused to hurry for anything. “Well,” he said, “that’s unfortunate.”
I stared at him. “Unfortunate? I thought you were the lucky one.”
He gave a lazy shrug. “Luck is a river, not a promise. It flows where it wants.”
My hands clenched. Lucian had escaped their watch by minutes. Every second mattered now. I was responsible for bringing him back safely—my loyalty to my king and Angel depended on it. Ragnar was near. Angel was missing. And Lucian was a ticking weapon with royal blood and a prophecy s
