The heavy palace doors swung open, and the transition from the cool, stagnant air of the Audience Hall to the bright, morning heat was jarring. A line of royal guards stood at attention, their silver armor gleaming, but their eyes remained fixed forward. They knew better than to look at the Crown Prince when he looked this unraveled, or at the woman who had clearly done the unravelling.
"The carriage is ready, Your Highness," the lead guard announced, his voice a stiff bark.
Maegel didn't acknowledge him. He was too busy adjusting his step to match mine, his hand finally settling on the small of my back—not with the iron grip of a captor, but with the light, frantic touch of someone making sure I hadn't vanished into thin air.
"Where would you like to go, Lyssa?" he asked. His voice was regaining some of its depth, but the tremor was still there, lurking underneath. "Back to the estate? Or perhaps you'd like to see the capital? Anything you want is yours."
