The next morning, the sun had barely kissed the sky when Islinda and Aldric left the king's palace. Aldric had reverted to his usual paranoid self, his sharp eyes constantly scanning their surroundings as though expecting an ambush. He spoke very little as they moved, but Islinda could feel the tension radiating from him.
It didn't surprise her though. Aldric was always this way — quick to suspect danger at every turn. To the point he hadn't even allowed them the comfort of a carriage ride back to the castle. It was clear he suspected Queen Maeve would plan something, an attack probably, on the road, something that would hurt them.
Or, more accurately, hurt her.
Aldric wasn't afraid for himself. He was too confident in his abilities for that. But Islinda was different. To him, she was his weakness, the fragile piece of his life that could be exploited by anyone looking to harm him. A weakness at his side that he couldn't stand to lose.
