Mikhailis had barely finished his conversation with Estella when he felt a firm hand grab his arm. He turned to find Vyrelda glaring at him, her face stern, her grip unyielding. It was clear she had something to say, and it wasn't going to be a compliment. She pulled him aside, her voice low but full of frustration.
"What are you thinking, Your Highness?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing.
Mikhailis, instead of being rattled, just smiled. The kind of smile that he knew infuriated her.
"Well, Vyrelda, I'm thinking that blending in with these folks gives us an opportunity. A group of well-armed travelers wandering alone in these woods? Suspicious. But as guards for a merchant caravan? Much less so," he explained, his tone almost casual.
Vyrelda sighed, her frown deepening.
"You always do this. Take risks, make snap decisions without consulting anyone. What if they turn out to be enemies? What if this is a trap?"
