They reached the trading hamlet at twilight.
Nestled in a canyon of withered pines, it buzzed with caravan wagons, vendors calling out spice weights, and children chasing chickens through the slush.
Sophia tugged her hood lower as they slipped through the crowd.
Caesar walked beside her, cloak streaked with mud and blood. His eyes never stopped moving.
She tapped his shoulder.
**Are we being followed?**
He shook his head. “Not yet."
She pointed to a stall hung with parchment sheets. “What's that?"
Caesar followed her gaze.
Then froze.
Sophia stepped closer.
The largest broadsheet showed a couple in ceremonial robes—moonveil silk, gold embroidery. The man's face was unmistakable.
Arthur.
Beside him stood a woman in the traditional imperial bride's veil.
Elowen.
**His new wife
