The streets of the capital whispered with the remnants of festival noise—distant laughter, the chime of bells, and the rustle of silks brushing against cobbled stone. Lucavion walked with measured ease, but every few steps, his gaze flicked over his shoulder.
Nothing.
No rustle of armored boots. No shadow clinging too long at the edge of an alley.
No guards.
Just the regular mess of a city too used to spectacle.
He exhaled, slow and quiet, the sound barely brushing the cool night air. A small smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
'It seems it worked.'
The white cat on his shoulder shifted slightly, her tail brushing the back of his neck with a touch of annoyance.
[Worked?] Vitaliara's voice came low, sharp, and not particularly amused. [You walked into the lion's mouth and gave it a riddle instead of a reason. Why in the world would you provoke a princess like that? Are you insane?]
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, as if considering the idea.
