Ludwig took a couple of deep breaths as he followed after the guard captain. The air tasted of wet clay and heated brass, a city's breath pressed through narrow corridors and open courtyards where fountains whispered to keep stones from cracking. His steps held steady, yet his mind lagged behind, snagged on what had just clawed across his senses. He knew who she was. Not by name alone, but by the weight of that vision and the perfume of authority laced through it. The queen of the sand kingdom. The Lustful Death.
He replayed the vision and felt his jaw tighten. The trap had not been violent in the way he trained for. It had been a soft vise, a pressure that did not bruise the skin yet bruised the will. The notion of being incapable of escape felt absurd to him on instinct, and that was precisely why it troubled him. It had bypassed the parts of him that usually shrug off fear and pain. It spoke to a smaller, breathing piece that still remembered the rhythm of a pulse.
