[Gale's POV]
I had already purchased an assortment of snacks—all thanks to Ray's coin purse. The General is useful for more than just looming and giving orders, I thought with a flicker of grim satisfaction.
I'd even caught a glimpse of Ann playing the hero, apprehending a pickpocket with a brutal efficiency that was almost artistic. It was a side of her I understood perfectly—the cold, clinical precision of someone who had once been a weapon. She was good. Annoyingly good.
But the witch was still there.
A persistent, silent shadow in the vibrant crowd. Every time I stopped at a stall, she would linger nearby, pretending to examine wares at the adjacent shop. Every time I turned a corner, I caught the watchful glow of her aura in my peripheral vision.
She's patient, I admitted. Professional. Waiting for something—a moment of weakness, a chance to strike.
Or maybe she's just curious. Maybe she wants to talk.
I was starting to get genuinely annoyed.
