For a moment, there was only silence—the faint creak of the carriage beneath them, the fading murmur of the palace behind. Aric exhaled, a slow, deliberate release of tension, and with a flick of his wrist, a dagger appeared in his hand.
He turned it over, watching the blade catch a shard of moonlight through the window.
"Are they ready?" he asked, his voice a steady, cold whisper.
Serina nodded, her expression unyielding. "They await us in position."
The knife gleamed beneath the dim luminescent light fixed carefully within the carriage, and Aric turned it between his fingers before a flick of his wrist made it vanish as seamlessly as it had appeared.
He leaned back against the soft leather seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but Serina was quick to pull him from his thoughts.
"What's the next move?"
Her voice was calm, unshaken, her gaze resting squarely on him as if already anticipating part of his reply.
