"Then we keep going," Viana said simply, her gaze unwavering. Her conviction was absolute. There was no other choice. She wouldn't allow herself to consider failure.
Rayne's jaw tightened, making Viana thought she saw a muscle jumping in his cheek. His nature as the crown prince of Valendale had instilled a deep caution, especially concerning unknown territories.
"And if we're being followed?" he pressed, his eyes darting towards the vast, dark emptiness beyond their firelight. "The desert hides many things. My own men, perhaps. Or others, drawn by the blight's spreading influence."
Joel's fingers stilled on his dagger, his casual air evaporating completely. "We're not," he said, his voice quiet but sharp.
"You can't know that," one of Rayne's knights muttered, his hand resting on his own weapon. He was tired, jumpy, and deeply suspicious of the Elysian guide. The tension between the two groups, of Elysian and Valendale Empire, becoming more palpable.
