They were both in a state of absolute, primal frenzy. Mahir's golden eyes were practically glowing in the dim light, his broadsword drawn, while Ken looked like a walking mountain of sheer, murderous intent.
They took in the scene—the dead assassins, the pinned survivor, and Julian holding onto their Empress.
Mahir rushed forward, dropping to one knee beside the pinned assassin. "Master! We were diverted. A forged imperial seal ordered us to the western armory. I will tear the flesh from whoever drafted that order. Are you injured?"
"Negative," Elara replied, her tone instantly snapping back to its terrifying, complex baseline. She did not push Julian away, though she maintained her rigid posture. "The security breach was anticipated, though the timeline was accelerated. The Northern Prince was the primary target."
