The Gathering Storm

Two days later, under the cover of dusk, a small caravan of "merchants" made its way toward Riverhold.

The wagons were loaded with fake supplies—empty barrels, worthless cargo, and a handful of hidden soldiers.

Alina rode ahead, disguised as a simple traveler. Beside her, Lord Varin looked deeply unamused.

"I still think this is reckless," he muttered.

Alina didn't glance at him. "Everything is reckless until it works."

Varin grunted. "That sounds like something your father would say."

She smiled slightly. "It is."

The night deepened. The forest grew quieter.

Then—movement.

Alina didn't react. She kept her horse at an easy pace, her posture relaxed. But she saw the figures in the shadows.

They were waiting.

Good.

She gave the signal.