'Why did I not take a horse to come here? Why did I decide to take the carriage?'
Bruce sat stiffly inside the carriage, his jaw clenched and sweat collecting at his brow despite the cool breeze slipping through the small windows.
He was certain—absolutely certain—that if they didn't arrive soon, he would die. Not from enemy blades or poison or some elaborate assassination plot.
No, he'd die from the pressure.
He cast a glance toward the open slit of the window and watched longingly as Queen darted through the air outside, flying free and unburdened, blissfully unaware of the chaos contained within the cramped space of the carriage.
It had flown off the moment the door shut behind them, not even pretending it would stick around for this.
Bruce gave Queen a mental salute.
'Smart creature.'
Desperation rising, he turned toward Kyle, who sat across from him with his usual calm expression, gazing out the window like he wasn't sitting in the most dangerous war zone imaginable.
