The door of the carriage opened as Yeara turned, her eyes still wide. She glanced at the open doorway and finally pulled away from Zalthor's lap, stepping out.
A gentle after-breeze brushed her face as Zalthor stepped outside as well, his expression calm and controlled, the air thickened by his presence. Yeara's heartbeat no longer followed its usual rhythm—different emotions collided inside her all at once.
Her eyes darted back toward the balcony, but no one was there. She looked again, as if to confirm what she had seen… had her eyes been playing tricks on her?
"Impossible," she muttered softly, as if saying the words aloud could make them false. Her gaze wandered over the castle. It was immense, lavish—perhaps the grandeur of it all could help her make sense of what had just happened.
