The sound of the carriage wheels touched the rocky ground with a slow, heavy rhythm. The wind slipping through the cracks of the window carried the night's cold air, piercing silently down to the bone. Inside the luxurious carriage, draped in black velvet and engraved with the royal crest of Valtherion, Hana sat stiffly.
Her body leaned against the wall, but her shoulders were tense. Her fingers clasped tightly in her lap, clutching the hem of her slightly wrinkled white skirt. That servant's uniform felt so out of place in such a grand setting.
Across from her, Mathien sat in silence. Not a word left his lips. He simply stared at the window, his face almost unreadable. His back was straight, one hand resting on his knee, his black cloak trailing down onto the wooden floor.
Hana stole a glance. Then quickly lowered her gaze.
She could still remember… those stares.
