The next morning came sooner than ever.
Roxy stood leaning against the railing, the cool morning air biting slightly at her bare arms.
She was still wearing the soft lavender silk sleep gown Torian had dressed her in the night before, her dark curls tumbling in a messy, unchecked tangle down her back.
Down in the courtyard, the atmosphere was strictly business.
Torian stood beside the five massive wooden crates of the Wither-Rot cure, his broad chest puffed out as he delivered Roxy's deployment plan to the rest of the Alpha Kings.
Ren and Kaelen listened intently, their faces deadpan as they mentally calculated the quickest aerial and ground routes to their respective territories.
Syris simply leaned against a nearby fence post, his arms crossed, looking entirely unbothered by the logistics.
Zarek, however, looked ready to commit a massacre.
