Thoren
She shook her head before I even asked.
One small movement—tight, instinctive, eyes wide like prey scenting danger—and that was all I needed.
“I’ll handle it,” I said quietly, already turning toward the door. “Sabrina will help you get the bags to your room.”
Nevara didn’t argue. Didn’t ask questions. She just nodded once and clutched the handles of the shopping bags a little tighter.
I walked out.
And whatever warmth had bloomed in me that afternoon? It vanished with the wind at the front gates.
The man standing there wasn’t hard to place. He looked exactly like I expected him to—bitter, squared jaw, stiff shoulders, eyes that scanned the grounds like he was already judging it unworthy.
Tobias.
I’d never met him before. But I didn’t need an introduction to recognize a man
