"Well..."
The soft voice drifting through the forest caused Henry to tear himself away from Violet at once.
He turned sharply.
Only a few feet away stood Lady Arta.
She wore the same pale blue dress from the previous night, though it was no longer as immaculate as before. Her golden hair, once perfectly arranged, now hung in loose, disheveled strands, as though impatient fingers had raked through it again and again. Outwardly, she remained composed, her posture graceful and her expression serene.
But her eyes betrayed her.
The calmness they once held had been replaced by something far more unsettling—a quiet madness that sent a chill racing down Henry's spine.
"Puppy dog," she called gently, her voice as soft as ever. "Come now."
Behind him, Violet remained frozen where she stood. The sudden kiss had left her mind in disarray. Her cheeks burned crimson, and her lips were still slightly parted as she struggled to steady her breathing.
