"My lady, please—," said the maid.
Amara didn't understand what had happened. He was hiding something—something big, something awful, she thought. She was still on the floor, trying to understand his motives.
"We must leave at once," the maid whispered. She was afraid—afraid of the lord himself.
"Sisi…" Amara's voice was weak. "Tell me—someone's following Maxwell, aren't they?"
"You don't have to speak," Amara murmured. "Just nod… I need to know."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Ethan entered. Maxwell had ordered him to fetch Amara, thinking she wouldn't leave on her own.
"Your Grace," he said. "We have no time. We must go—now."
Sisi quickly stood and bowed to Ethan. He stepped closer to Amara and helped her to her feet.
She stood, the world still spinning faintly around her. "Ethan…" she whispered, her eyes searching his. "Is someone following us?"
"Your Grace…" Ethan began, his voice low.
Amara turned to him sharply. "Tell me the truth, Ethan. Stop acting like a loyal hound and speak to me as a friend,for once—just say it."
He hesitated, eyes dark with conflict, then nodded. "Yes."
"Is it someone powerful?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes looking at ethan with peercing him.
"Yes," he said again, without looking away. She met his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.
Amara understood the urgency. She would have stayed and fought with Maxwell, but Axel was here. She couldn't risk it. Not now.
"I can't believe this man," Amara muttered, half to herself, half in fury. "How careless… how childish. I'm arguing with a toddler—pardon me—a teenager! He could say something, explain a little… but no. He chooses to be mysterious."
She pushed herself to her feet, eyes blazing. "Show me where the carriage is."
"At the stables, Your Grace," Ethan replied. They moved quickly.
"Ethan." Her voice steadied. "Give me a sword. Or a knife."
He paused, uneasy. "your grace , without his—"
"Without his knowledge!! ," she snapped. " Give me one and tell him afterward. I know, There's something wrong with Maxwell—his fear, his secrecy—that's proof enough. I won't stand helpless while everyone else frets. If nothing else, I must be able to defend myself. Or my son"
"There are soldiers to protect you," Ethan said.
"Then give me a blade in front of him," she insisted. "stop acting like a fool Just give it to me."
Ethan studied her for a moment, the weight of duty and caution in his gaze. At last he drew a small dagger from his belt and slid it into her hand.