The murmurs did not die quickly. They clung to the air, carried on the smoke from campfires and the restless neighing of horses, as though the whole clearing could not decide whether to laugh or shiver. Some nobles exchanged smirks, others folded their arms and whispered low, but no one quite dared to speak too loudly in the silence that followed Lucian's final remark.
"Perhaps the wolves will teach me better company than men".
It had been delivered softly, almost idly, but the edge was undeniable. What unsettled them most was not the words themselves, but the man who spoke them—standing there with his bruises still livid on his skin, his posture straight, his face calm, as if humiliation were a garment he wore by choice.
Alistair was the first to recover. His grin returned, sharp and feline. "Careful, tutor. The wolves may like you too much. Imagine it—dragged into the forest before morning, nothing left but scraps of that pretty cloak."
