The road from Peduviel to Vetasta ran northward through gentler country than the passes Aya now crossed in the South, but it carried its own kind of weight.
This was no celebratory procession.
The banners that rode with them were fewer, their colors chosen for recognition rather than ceremony. The Eastern escort had peeled away in stages over the last day, leaving only the core of their party to continue toward the seat of House Svedana's influence.
At the center of it rode Juno.
He looked younger on the road than he had in the Great Hall of Peduviel.
Not because the title had diminished him, but because the journey had stripped away the structure of court. There were no polished floors beneath his feet, no council eyes fixed upon him, no ceremonial robes to lend him borrowed gravity.
Only the horse beneath him.
The road ahead.
And the weight of what had been entrusted to him.
The eldest sibling, Elex, rode at his right.
