A Choice of Trust.
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Morning.
Wrath-Bridge, Wyfkeep Castle.
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They continued their walk and the atmosphere shifted, it grew thick with an intense, eerie heat that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. The morning sun became a distant memory, the chill creeping around them as they climbed the bridge. Mist swirled from the water below, adding to the sense of foreboding that settled over Salviana.
"I told you not to say a word earlier," Alaric growled, his voice low and fierce, slicing through the tension.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling both embarrassed and rebellious.
Did he expect an apology?
"Apparently, I didn't listen," she replied stubbornly as they ascended the bridge, despite her heart racing.