He did not rush as recklessly as he had when Agnia needed him, but he still maintained a steady and deceptively fast pace, forcing himself to appear controlled while crossing the distance as efficiently as possible.
There was no desperate tearing through the sky this time, no uncontrolled power spilling from his body, yet every beat of his wings carried him farther toward Frankindia without wasting even a moment.
Max did not want to arouse suspicion among his people by suddenly fleeing the kingdom in a panic.
They had only just gained a permanent home after everything they had endured, and he refused to let them believe that it would soon be swallowed by flames because of yet another enemy gathering beyond their borders.
They deserved at least a little peace, a chance to sleep without fearing that someone would come for them in the middle of the night, forcing them to keep a knife beneath their pillows even within the walls of the kingdom they were finally supposed to call home.
