Seravine stood still as Caspian's figure disappeared into the darkness beyond the cavern mouth.
The sound of his boots echoed off the cold stone until silence reclaimed the space between them. She exhaled quietly, folding her arms. Caspian's cloak rested heavily on her shoulders, warm and faintly scented with battle-worn leather, frost-touched pine, and elven arrows. Oddly comforting.
As agreed, she was to remain behind. Caspian insisted on going alone to find Yami, not just because the path was treacherous, but because—as he put it—"a cursed gambler demon and a former king with a temper were two disasters waiting to happen in enemy territory." Still, he'd made her a promise before he left.
"When I bring the boy back," he had said, gaze steady, "I'll help you with your curse. That's a vow."
And Seravine… for reasons even she couldn't explain… trusted him.
