Steel rang against steel. At the last instant, a hand seized the assassin's wrist, halting the strike.
Vanda.
His eyes burned with molten fury as he twisted the blade free and drove the man to his knees. The assassin spat, struggling, but the prince's grip was iron.
"You dared step into my halls," Vanda snarled, "to touch what is mine?"
The word mine made Daya's breath catch, though her hands still trembled from the brush with death.
The assassin sneered. "You think you can protect her forever? Rosa's reach is longer than your fire, dragon."
Vanda's hand clenched—and with a sickening crack, silence fell.
The body crumpled.
The room stank of blood and ash, and Vanda turned, his gaze falling on Daya. For a moment, neither spoke.
"Why were you here?" he asked finally, voice low.
Her lips trembled. "I—I followed him. I thought he would harm you."
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. He stepped closer, too close
: "Foolish girl," he whispered, pinning her against the wall. "Do you even realize what you've done to me?"