The carriage waited at the castle entrance. Wheels still. Horses snorting impatiently. The cool air carried dry leaves across the stone ground.
Max, Dorian, Neros, and Seraphine were already prepared.
They wore dark cloaks, plain and unadorned, made by Sophie. Muted colors. Nothing eye-catching.
Or at least… that was the idea.
Because even so, there was something about them that screamed we are not common folk.
Don adjusted himself in the driver's seat, holding the reins.
"I'll drop you off in the middle of the forest," he said. "Halfway to the Grand City. From there, you're on your own."
Seraphine nodded gracefully.
"That sounds perfect."
Dorian crossed his arms, looking at the group gathered in front of them.
"And please…" he added, "try not to draw attention."
His gaze shifted toward Neros.
"If it weren't for his cut ears, it'd be obvious he works—or lives—in the castle."
Neros didn't respond. But his brow tightened slightly.
