The night had deepened into a velvet hush, the distant chatter of the celebration fading beneath the rustling leaves of the royal garden. Serena moved along the winding path, her heels crunching softly over gravel as she slipped around the rose-covered archway. She wasn't supposed to be here—no one was—but the chaos she had witnessed earlier had left her too wired to simply return to her guest chamber.
She needed answers. She needed clarity.
And, if she was being honest, she needed leverage.
The garden was the perfect place for all three.
Serena rounded a trimmed hedge, pushing aside a low-hanging branch before stepping into a more secluded patch of greenery. The faint glow of lanterns from the main pavilion barely reached this far. Shadows danced, thick and secretive, and Serena felt a thrill surge through her chest.
That was when she heard it.
A low, guttural sound—masculine, rough, barely contained.
Serena froze.
