Unless they weren't here for war. Unless this was about her.
Salviana.
The thought was a sudden, searing thing, setting every nerve in his body alight.
Had they taken her? Had someone from their ranks infiltrated the castle last night? Was this some calculated move—a ransom, a warning, a threat?
He didn't wait.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
He turned like a man possessed, his cloak whipping behind him, and ran.
He barely heard Samion call his name, barely noticed Lucius struggling to keep up as he darted from shadow to shadow—
All Alaric saw was the path to the castle gates.
Because if the Tackeros Kingdom had his wife—
There would be no talking.
There would be blood.
Alaric's boots thundered against the stone floors, his heart a wild drum in his chest. Every twist and turn of the castle hall blurred past him—guards rushing, servants whispering, the distant clang of the alarm bells still ringing through the air.
He didn't stop until he reached the castle's entrance.
