"Who is that brooch for?" Roan asked as he stepped out of the jewelry shop, his sharp gaze flickering toward the small velvet box in my hand.
I smirked, tucking it into my coat. "What's the hurry? You'll know soon enough."
Roan cocked an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, he fell into step beside me, his presence a steady shadow against the dimming light of the evening. The streets hummed with the usual bustle—merchants closing their stalls, lanterns flickering to life, voices fading into murmurs against the cobblestone roads.
But amid the ordinary sounds, I could hear it. A presence. The faint, calculated rhythm of footsteps trailing us, keeping just enough distance to remain inconspicuous.
Roan, however, seemed unaware.
"Besides," he continued, his voice casual but probing, "why do you think that guy was there?"
"Asher?" I shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."