For his kingdom, for Salviana's safety, and for Emma's peace of mind, he would see this through.
Alaric stood in his office, the memory of the encounter in the streets of Wyfellon playing vividly in his mind.
He had been walking with Salviana that day, enjoying a rare moment of peace amidst their busy lives, when a voice called out to him.
"Your Grace!"
He had turned to see the woman who managed Wyfhaven, the sanctuary where he and Lucius had helped rescue girls in need.
Her face was pale with worry, her movements rushed as though she couldn't get her words out fast enough.
"Good afternoon," Alaric had said, his tone calm yet laced with concern.
"Good afternoon, Your Grace," she greeted, bowing slightly before acknowledging Salviana. "Her Grace."
Salviana inclined her head, her curiosity piqued by the tension in the woman's demeanor.
"What's going on? You don't look too great," Alaric asked, his brow furrowing.
