Chapter 14 — Bridges of Steel and Silk

Morning fog curled off the courtyard stones as Ophelia tightened the buckle on her riding gloves. The envoy saddle sat high on her borrowed mare, its polished leather gleaming with Moonfang silver. Beside her, Dylan adjusted the clasp of his cloak, gestures brisk but understated; every movement hinted at nerves he would never confess aloud.

Maeve bustled up with a satchel of travel rations. “Sun-dried venison, oatcakes, and a flask of Rowan’s fever tonic,” she said, stuffing it behind Ophelia’s saddle horn. “Diplomats can’t negotiate on empty stomachs.”

Ophelia smiled. “Thank you, quartermaster of kindness.”

Ash circled the mare’s hooves, eager whines vibrating in his chest. Griff’s rumble drifted over the morning hush. “Hounds stay, envoy rides.” He crouched and ruffled Ash’s ears. “Guard the keep, four-paws.”

The hound sat, clearly offended. Ophelia knelt, pressing forehead to his. “Watch Maeve. Keep her gossip sharp.” The hound chuffed a reluctant agreement.