The forest trail was cold and muddy, winding from the port town to Elysia's capital. Tall pine trees lined the path, their scent mixing with the faint salt of the sea breeze.
Viana's boots sank into the damp earth, her green cloak heavy with moisture, her blonde hair hidden beneath her hood. Ten captives followed, their movements slow and weary. Cooper leaned against the older woman, his small frame unsteady from exhaustion.
Torren led the group, his scarred face unreadable. Six mercenaries flanked the sides, crossbows ready, eyes scanning the shadows.
Joel walked beside Viana, his brown eyes sweeping the treeline for danger. Reyes trailed behind in silence, his dark cloak shifting with the wind.
Viana's chest tightened. Reyes's words from the lodge still weighed on her—_Don't push me aside again._ His anger and jealousy could threaten her efforts to build trust among her men, to form a loyal team, a harem.
