The road did not bring another messenger.
That was the first sign something had shifted.
By midmorning, she had expected shouting, or pleading, or at the very least anger carried on hurried footsteps. That was how people usually responded to refusal—by returning louder, closer, more desperate.
Instead, the road stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
She stood at the ridge longer than she needed to, eyes tracing the empty path that cut through the low hills like a scar. The bond stirred faintly, brushing against her awareness, not alarmed but… attentive.
"They're rerouting," Rowan said behind her.
She didn't ask how he knew.
Silas confirmed it moments later. "Scouts report movement east. Not toward us."
Alaric folded his arms slowly. "They've decided not to ask again."
The words settled heavier than any accusation.
She turned from the road at last. "That was always going to happen."
"Yes," Silas said. "But it happened faster than expected."
The bond hummed low, almost thoughtful.
