"But you don't know the way..."
"I don't care."
Norra hesitated again. "Then let me come with you. I know the path. If I take the messenger's route through the eastern trail, we can reach the ridge faster than the main road."
Liora studied the young woman for a beat longer. Clumsy as she seemed, Norra's hands were steady. Her eyes burned with something genuine, loyalty, perhaps, or guilt.
She nodded once. "We leave before dawn."
That night, while the estate slept under a veil of false quiet, Liora packed only what she needed—a dagger hidden in the lining of her dress, the letter from Lucien, and the cloth. She didn't wake Beatrice or Samuel. She didn't trust who might be listening.
And as she slipped into the stables, where Norra waited with two saddled horses, Liora could only pray that Lucien wasn't already too deep into whatever darkness waited in Petra.
Unaware of how close he was to being swallowed whole
