The air was crisp and cold, filled with the refreshing scent of willow leaves swaying and rustling softly under the gentle winds. The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows that danced across the ground. The silence in the willow grove was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.
Alyssane leaned against the rough bark of a tree, her eyes closed, waiting for Kazmun's response. The silence stretched on, and she felt a sinking certainty that he wouldn't answer. It was unsurprising. He didn't trust her—perhaps now he hated her even more after what had transpired.
As the euphoric warmth from earlier faded from her mind, Alyssane's thoughts turned dark. She was caught in a wicked scheme, and now she had made an even greater enemy of the crown prince. Her nerves were on edge, a tension that coiled in her stomach and made her feel nauseous.
