“We should be leaving now,” Jasper growls out. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling the locks.
“It is only for a few hours,” Alma explains. “We will be able to make up the time later on.”
“I do not feel comfortable here,” he retorts, snarling.
The Climont soldiers mill about, shining their weapons or cooking their dinner. The maids constantly glance over at the Pivurlions, their brows stitched up with unease. Jasper refuses to relax in this atmosphere. There is a tension thick in the air that he does not trust.
“Let’s retrieve our horses,” Alma urges, moving to his side.
“I am not leaving her here alone.”
“She is not alone, Olisnia is with her.”
Jasper breathes in, but he is only able to sense a small whiff of Eliana’s honey scent. He cannot put too much distance between them. He must protect her.