She hadn't spoken much since he'd pulled her from that gilded cage, but the tension in her shoulders had begun to ease with each mile they put between themselves and her captors.
Jorghan studied her profile as they walked.
Seven feet tall, slender but strong, with movements that spoke of a warrior's training beneath the refinement. The way she carried herself, the defiant set of her jaw, and the fierce independence in her gaze.
"We should stop soon," Sarhita said, her voice breaking his reverie.
It was the first time she'd spoken in over an hour.
"The Garkho Plains begin just beyond that ridge. If we camp on the border, we'll have options come morning—the grasslands offer cover, but also exposure."
Jorghan nodded, impressed by her tactical thinking.
You know this region well?"
"The Nuwe'rak clan has... extensive territories," she said carefully.
"We travel. We trade. We observe."
