The southern wall still smouldered with the scent of ash and blood.
As Evelina and Jasper approached, two Arcadian guards stepped forward from the makeshift barricade—a hastily constructed defence of stone slabs, charred wood, and overturned waggons still slick with yesterday's smoke.
The guards stiffened, recognising her immediately.
"Lady Evelina," one of them said, stepping into her path. "Forgive us, but this area is unstable. The wall's compromised. Debris is still shifting—"
"I won't be long," she said in a calm voice. "I just need to look around."
The guards exchanged a glance.
She noticed it right away—the tension in their jaws, the way their hands nearly gripped their weapons. It wasn't because they didn't trust her; it was because they felt a strong duty to protect her.
"You're the prince's mate," the other guard said carefully. "If anything happens to you—"
"I'll take full responsibility," Evelina said. "I've walked through worse."
