"Do you trust him?"
Liora's lips parted, but no answer came.
At the manor's front, Lucien stood by his horse, his coat half-buttoned, hair tied back neatly. He looked every inch the nobleman he'd once been save for the scar beneath his left eye and the quiet war brewing in his stare.
When Liora approached, handing over the message, he said nothing at first. Their fingers brushed.
"Thank you," he said, the words low, but not cold.
"You're riding out yourself?" she asked.
"Only halfway. Petras won't speak freely unless I show my face." His gaze flicked over her. "Stay alert while I'm gone. If anything feels wrong, don't ask questions. Go to Rowan."
She gave a small nod.
Lucien mounted his horse but didn't ride immediately. His eyes rested on her something unreadable in them. Then he was gone, hooves thudding against the stone path, disappearing into the thick morning fog.
