Adelyn's voice was soft and quiet—gentle enough that Eira wouldn't be frightened.
But when her gaze snapped toward the men, it turned piercingly cold.
So cold that, for a moment, everyone in the room stiffened under it.
Then, suddenly, one of them scoffed and spoke up in a daring tone.
"So what if we go back on our word?" His eyes locked onto hers as his shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. "We never claimed to be saints who follow every damn promise we make."
"You—how can you say something so shameless?" Karl shot back instantly. "Haven't you heard? Even ordinary men don't go back on their word. If not saints, at least be men."
"You—what did you say?" The man bristled at once, anger flaring across his face as he charged toward Karl.
But before he could even lay a hand on him—
His arm was caught midair.
Firmly.
Tightly.
His brows furrowed, and when he turned—
It was no one but Adelyn.
