Alderon's POV
The morning of the hunt arrived colder than expected.
I fastened the last buckle of my hunting armor, dark leather reinforced with steel plates, and rolled my shoulders once. The weight felt familiar—comforting, even. Today was supposed to be simple: a show of skill for the nobles, routine patrol through the forest, nothing more.
I stepped out of my chambers and descended the palace steps toward the chariots lined across the courtyard—sleek wood, reinforced metal, enough space for the rider and two standing behind. The guards were mounting up, nobles preparing, horses restless.
I scanned the crowd immediately.
For her.
Maria.
I'd hoped she would come.
Just as I reached the rows of hunters, a sharp voice sliced through the morning.
Pamela.
Of course.
She stormed toward a girl standing alone—Maria—and even from afar, I could hear the irritation in her voice. Pamela had a talent for making everything unpleasant.
I approached before she could escalate it.
