The morning air held a crisp chill as Mark rode beside me, his usual air of confidence tinged with a rare unease. Pyrrhos, my stallion, trotted smoothly, his movements fluid and effortless, while Mark's mount, a slightly smaller but just as imposing horse, kept pace.
Behind us, the twins bickered lightly, their voices a low murmur that I chose to ignore for the moment. We were approaching the fork in the road where we'd separate, each group heading to their designated task.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," I teased, glancing sideways at Mark.
He gave me a sideways look, his lips twitching in a half-smile. "Ghosts would be easier to handle than this cult business."
"That bad?" I asked, feigning nonchalance, though I was already piecing together his words.
