Here's the corrected version — fixing typos, tense slips, and punctuation while keeping your voice, pacing, and the creeping dread intact:
Fifteen minutes later, Tish stood hovering by Mamon's elbow as they squinted in the torchlight, trying to make sense of the Perma Forest map, which Mamon held open in his hands.
"We left from the Western Gate," Mamon was pointing at the map, "here. And we took a southwest route." Tish nodded, trying to look like she understood what he meant. "We drifted quite far from the city, then," she stated — a fact she knew she wouldn't be wrong about. "Any village nearby?"
"Our capital doesn't have villages this far out," Mamon denied. "Especially not this far from Rā."
"Then... bandits?" Tish asked. "Here? In the middle of nowhere?"
"Not nowhere," Mamon said. "Look." He tapped insistently on a shape that looked vaguely like a red prism. "This area falls within the territory of one of the Korenis."
"Which one?" Tish asked, suddenly uncomfortable. Unlike the Vedaris, the Korenis had never really accepted her as the Saintess. Being what could only be described as strictly traditional, the Korenis couldn't bear having a so-called foreign orphan like Teresa "steal" the holiest status in Benevia, instead of it passing to a daughter with old Benevian blood running through her veins.
Had it not been for Antonio's rigid authority over the Rāva temple, and Tish's quick acquisition of holy power, she would have been executed as a witch long ago instead of worshipped as a Saintess.
They had also been the ones to quickly vote to sell Tish off to the Parthan King the second Partha brought forward the marriage treaty between the Saintess and the Dragon Prince.
Tish was so lost in thought she almost didn't realize Mamon was staring at her. The Benevian Prince looked at her with soft, pale blue eyes and slumped shoulders, the way one might look at a very pitiful puppy.
"Hey," he said softly, "nobody is going to hurt you while I'm around."
Tish almost gagged.
"I... appreciate your protection," Tish said, doing her best to sound grateful, which she didn't feel at all. "So. Who is it?"
"Verthon Krovoslav," Mamon informed her. "One of the oldest Korenis."
"Have I met him?" Tish asked, searching her memory for any recollection of a Verthon.
"Unlikely," Mamon mused. "Verthon is very... secretive. Despite being one of the richest families in Benevia, their bloodline suffers from a rare disease. So they're cautious about everything — especially about associating with 'outsiders.'" He air-quoted the word.
Tish stared. "Disease," she said flatly. "And yet they never visit the temple. They never visit me."
Mamon shrugged. "You know how Korenis are."
Fair point.
"Wait, so they don't like outsiders," Tish grabbed Mamon's arm, "and currently we're marching into their territory with over fifty soldiers, one dragon, and his companion."
Mamon hesitated a moment before his jaw hardened, eyes fixed on something distant. "I am the Prince," he stated. "Everything that stretches west from the Rā is mine. Including Verthon's lands. I'll issue a Royal Decree to enforce our—"
"Pffft— AHAHAHAHA!"
Tish felt her stomach drop. The entire procession of soldiers just... froze. Someone was laughing. Here. In the middle of nowhere, while Benevian soldiers searched for a dead man.
Tish looked at Rudra to find him already looking back at her, eyebrows raised. His lips were cracked from the cold. He was breathing through his mouth, leaning slightly against a pine. After not one but two terrifying encounters with shapeshifters, Rudra looked like he was running on fumes.
But his eyes were wide. Alert.
Beside him, Nayan Dev stood with one hand on Rudra's back and the other holding a stick like a deadly weapon — and being in Nayan's hand, Tish didn't doubt that the stick was anything but harmless.
Nayan lifted the stick and pointed at something — someone — behind a tree.
Quietly, the Benevian soldiers fell into defensive formation. The ones with heavy shields formed a semicircle, spearmen backing them up. The archers fell further back, notching their arrows. Tish found herself surrounded by Mamon and his personal guards. She tried to protest. "Your Highness, I have the protection of Rāva," she hissed, craning her neck to look around the solid wall of soldiers.
"You can have the protection of the whole world," Mamon's voice shook a little, "but you're still a woman I want to protect."
Tish almost gagged again.
She pushed past Mamon's personal guards. "Move. This is the order of the Saintess," she said sternly, then added, "Move, unless you want to anger Rāva." She was bluffing, but it worked. The soldiers parted.
Tish spotted Rudra and Nayan at the front. The Benevian soldiers had probably pushed them forward as bait. Rudra had a hand thrown out before Nayan, who crouched behind him, coiled like a predator.
Tish didn't call out to them. She fell into line instead, quietly following the pair, with Mamon at her heels.
And then she saw it. Four men, hunched around what looked like the pale, lifeless figure of a Benevian soldier. His armor was nowhere to be seen, but the chainmail and thick red leather padding around the arms and shoulders — a distinguishing feature of the Benevian soldier's uniform — was easily recognizable.
The four men around him wore ordinary thick coats and head coverings, yet their behavior was anything but ordinary. They were giggling like little boys, bodies shaking with the effort of holding it in, mouths clamped shut, heads hung low.
The scene was so out of place — in a forest, in utter darkness — that Tish couldn't help but shiver. And then she noticed Rudra walking toward them, his gait almost confident, as if he hadn't had his throat torn open by a shapeshifter half an hour ago.
Tish fisted her hands, holding herself back from running to Rudra and pulling him back.
It's alright, she told herself. He's a dragon. He's survived worse.
But then, with a dread she couldn't quite name, she realized she no longer knew what "worse" even meant anymore.