The moment Hermi heard the unified shout of hundreds of voices, she couldn't decide whether to be terrified that she had been caught in her escape, or relieved that the roiling dust cloud on the horizon belonged to Cassian's legions.
"Of course," Hermi mumbled, the weight of her gown suddenly feeling twice as heavy. "My husband wouldn't just send a scout. He would deploy an entire infantry detachment to conduct a domestic dispute."
Her gaze instinctively snapped to her fingers, even as she had already worn riding gloves. A relieved sigh escaped her.
The force approaching them was staggering, thrice the size of her own small escort, with three hundred men in black iron moved with the precision of a single organism.
At the apex of this metal tide rode Cassian, his presence radiating a gravitational pull that seemed to flatten the very air around him. Commander Marco rode a half-length behind, his expression caught between professional stoicism and a very personal sort of dread.
