Oriana stood by the window, her hand pressed against the cold glass, watching as Rhistel walked away from her and down the stairs. Her heart clenched, perhaps that was the first time when she was afraid of losing someone.
"Don't go out there… please" she begged silently, as her breath fogged the glass. But he didn't look back.
Downstairs, the innkeeper met Rhistel near the door, eyes darting nervously toward the muffled uproar outside.
"My lord, I strongly advise you to wait," the man whispered, wringing his hands. "They're scared and unstable. Let the crowd calm a bit, or let me send someone instead."
"No," Rhistel said firmly, his voice low but resolute. "These are my people. If they've lost their trust in me, then I must face them myself."
He opened the door before the innkeeper could say more, stepping out to face the agitated crowd.
