Murmurs rise behind me, tugging my gaze from my ruined boots as the procession halts abruptly. It's only been a few hours since dawn, too early for rest.
The horse I'm chained to snorts, kicking up a cloud of dust into my face. King Lucien soothes it with a murmur, stroking its neck as though the beast were some cherished lover, chuckling, so thoroughly amused when the animal nearly bites his fingers off.
He drops to the ground with predator's grace, stalking a few measured steps into the barren plains before halting in the middle of nowhere. My brows furrow as he lifts a hand, palm pressing against empty air like he sees something we cannot.
And the world changes.
