Aire's gaze lowered slowly to her wrists.
A guard stepped forward carefully.
"Luna…" he began, then stopped, as if unsure which title still belonged to her. He tried again. "Your Grace. You will need to come with us."
Her throat moved once, dryly. She exhaled tiredly, drained of resistance.
"Where?" she asked quietly.
The guard hesitated.
Another guard answered instead. "Below."
Aire's eyes lifted slightly. "Below where?" she asked softly, and no one responded. As usual, they all felt she deserved to know nothing.
She understood the silence.
"The dungeon," she whispered, and no one corrected her.
Aire nodded once. "Alright." She permitted then to lead the way. She wouldn't mind dying.
Nate's head snapped toward her instantly. "Aire—"
She turd to him sharply with a glare. "You make me want to die, Nate. Stay away from me."
Alaric stepped forward slightly.
"This is not permanent," he said quickly, his voice lower. "It is containment until we understand—"
