Hours later, when the sun had long since crossed its highest point and the afternoon light settled softly over the palace, Helena found herself once again beside Leofrik, this time walking down the stone path that led to the front courtyard, where a sleek black vehicle waited with its rear doors open.
Off to the side, a dark SUV with tinted windows idled with its engine running. Helena recognized some of the lycan warriors who had escorted Leofrik during his visit to Moon’s Claw — men and women with watchful eyes, steady postures, and an aura of calm vigilance that wrapped her in a sense of safety.
Leofrik, dressed simply for travel — dark trousers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a leather jacket — offered his hand to help her in. The gesture seemed so natural, almost unco
