The hunter's lodge stood at the edge of the forest near the port town, its ivy-covered walls sagging under years of wear. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood, old leather, and the faint char of distant caravan fires.
The glow from the single hearth flickered, casting jagged shadows across the worn benches where ten captives—Cooper, the old woman, and others—huddled, their faces showing exhaustion and fear.
Reyes's voice cut through the silence, sharp and laced with betrayal. "Why are you the only one guarding the princess?"
He stood in the doorway, his short brown hair catching the firelight, his intense brown eyes locked onto Joel with anger and hurt. The Royal Guard insignia of the Crown Princess gleamed on his dark leather cloak, identical to Joel's, but his posture was rigid with defiance.
Viana's chest tightened. She had miscalculated. Reyes wasn't just a guard, he was vital to her plans, someone she needed to rely on.
