LIANA'S POV
The carriage wheels hit a rut, jarring me from my thoughts. Through the small window, unfamiliar trees blurred past; we'd left the main road miles ago. The horses' hooves beat a steady rhythm against packed earth, but something felt wrong. The coachman hadn't spoken since we'd turned off the royal highway.
I leaned forward, gripping the worn leather seat. "Excuse me—"
His laugh cut through the evening air. Not warm or amused, but hollow. The sound of a man who'd seen too much.
"You really want to win, don't you?" The words drifted back without him turning around. His shoulders remained rigid beneath his cloak, but I immediately caught the Sedimo crest catching moonlight.
My mouth went dry. I pressed my lips together, waiting.
The carriage swayed as he reached into his coat. Something small sailed through the air, landing with a soft thud on my skirts. A velvet pouch, deep purple in the dim light.
