The second day had begun differently.
The first light of dawn slipped through the grimy windows of the inn, pale and almost reluctant, as if the sun itself was unsure about venturing into this part of the world. Matt had not slept. He had stood guard through the night, his eyes on the forest, his ears tuned to the silence. Nothing had moved. Nothing had come.
But the silence had felt wrong. Heavy. Like the woods had ears and eyes. Watching and listening.
Yvonne stirred on the bed, her platinum hair tangled, her face soft, but not with sleep. She looked younger—less like the fierce princess who had mocked him in the castle corridors, more like the woman who had snuck out of her father's house to follow him into danger.
"Morning," Matt said.
She blinked at him, disoriented. "Did you sleep?"
"No."
"Idiot." She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You can't protect me if you're exhausted."
"I can try."
