The journey back to Mirewood Hall was a strange, suspended moment in time. The adrenaline of the confrontation had faded, leaving behind a humming, volatile silence in the carriage.
Seraphyne had insisted on sharing a carriage with Finnian alone. Her brothers, respecting her silent command, had taken another. Caelan's face, as he had closed the door, had been a thundercloud of controlled fury, a promise of a conversation to come.
But for now, she was alone with him.
The moment the carriage door clicked shut, Finnian was a flurry of motion. He scrambled across the velvet seat, his hands hovering over her, his beautiful, expressive face a mask of frantic concern.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Did he touch you? Seraphyne, look at me. Did that bastard lay a hand on you?"
