He still said nothing.
Yet the warmth and strength in that one action were enough.
After that, they stepped outside again.
And that was when they saw the fight.
Or rather, what was left of it.
A crowd had gathered near one side, and in the middle of it stood the refugees Isabella had taken in weeks ago. They were porters and broken people and those who had once arrived here with nothing but fear and hunger, and by now they had long stopped acting like outsiders. They had built lives here. They had slept under these roofs. They had eaten this food. They had worked and healed and slowly begun calling this place home.
Now they stood with bruised knuckles and hard faces.
On the other side were some of the people from the earlier alliance village. Those same people who had already shown signs of carrying poison in their hearts.
The moment Isabella saw the tension in the air, she already understood.
She had been expecting this.
