“What are you doing back here?” one of them demanded, eyebrows furrowed. “Weren’t you assigned to watch Marian?”
Another snorted, arms crossed. “Why bother? It’s not like she can go anywhere. She’s securely tied up, and there’s no way off these lands.”
A few of them exchanged mocking smirks, letting out low chuckles. The beta’s mouth opened as he readied to explain—but before he could say a word, a distinct scent drifted toward them, sharp with herbs and earth.
They all turned just in time to see Amara approaching, her steps uneven.
She wore loose, breathable garments that revealed the edges of her bandaged injuries. Layers of salves and herbs clung to her skin, the scent unmistakable. Her movement was labored, each step clearly painful, and her usual air of pride was dulled, her face pale and drawn. Still, she managed a frail smile as she approached the cluster of warriors.
“What’s the commotion about?” she asked, feigning curiosity with practiced ease. “Why are you all gathered here like something urgent happened?”
A warrior stepped forward, speaking without hesitation. “We just returned after dealing with Marian. Gave her what she deserved.”