The seventh dawn rose gray and breathless. Frost clung to every rooftop, every leaf. In the courtyard below, a transport wagon stood ready—two horses harnessed, guards in formation. A small trunk waited near the back, half-covered in canvas.
Grace stood by the keep's archway, cloak drawn tight, eyes fixed on the empty path.
“She's not coming," Beta Aldric said beside her.
Grace didn't answer.
“Your orders, Luna?"
Her voice was flat. “Wait one more hour."
Aldric nodded and stepped away.
The minutes stretched. Then turned heavy. Then sharp.
Grace's hand curled into a fist.
---
That night, the courtyard was deserted, moonlight stretching long shadows over stone. Grace moved through the fog silently, her boots muffled on damp earth.
She'd followed Ethan once before like this. Three
