Lara looked away first. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the color blooming across her face like fire racing through dry grass. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest, each beat loud enough, she feared, for Alaric to hear. What was happening to her? Why did the mere sound of his voice make her breath catch? Did she… like him?
Outside, the soft pitter-patter of rain began to drum against the carriage roof, a gentle, rhythmic cascade that grew louder by the second. The scent of damp earth and summer air wafted in as the sky darkened. The coachman clucked to the horses and guided them beneath a sprawling tree, its thick canopy offering a shield from the downpour. They were only halfway to the Norse mansion, yet the sudden pause in their journey felt like the world itself had taken a breath.
"Look over there!" Prince Alaric said, his voice alight with wonder. He pointed to the east.