clip-clop… clip-clop…
Horses rhythmic steps is the only sound in the quiet morning air as the carriage sways gently. I peek out the window, watching the polished marble of the inner city transition into the soot-stained brick and narrow alleys of the outskirts.
I did briefly consider having Rhaegor just fly me there—it would have saved so much time—but the sight of a Skyfire Tyrant descending on a residential district would probably cause a mass exodus. Not exactly the "friendly neighborhood princess" vibe I'm going for.
I look at the two men across from me. Grandpa Eldric looks as sturdy as an old oak, while Kael sits with his usual spine-stiffening discipline. "Are you sure not even one of you wants to guard from the outside?" I ask. "You're both just… cramped in here."
"Worry not, child," Grandpa says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the carriage floor. "No one can harm a single hair on your head within my presence."
