Sylas sat on the front, his eyes locked on the road.
From time to time, Ana would lean forward and ask,
"Do you want me to sit up there with you?"
Or,
"Are you feeling lonely, sitting all by yourself?"
Every time, Sylas answered with the same soft smile—
"Oh, Princess… if you sit next to a commoner like me, what will the nobles think?"
He raised a brow dramatically, like it was the most scandalous thing in the world.
"They might riot," he continued with a smirk. "Or worse… they might beat me up."
Ana rolled her eyes and pouted, like always.
King Kael just chuckled in the back, quietly enjoying the show.
But Sylas never looked back. His eyes—his mind—focused on one thing. The mission. He needed to be aware of everything.
After the third time she asked, he stopped answering.
His grip on the reins tightened before he flicked them, telling the horse to go faster.
She stared at him like a hunter—focused, unmoving.
He didn't need to look to know.
