The sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.
A cool breeze swept through the street, carrying the scent of woodsmoke.
The evening air felt crisp against my face, refreshing after the warmth of the manor.
I was walking back from the Glimor manor with a lighter step than I'd had in days.
I turned my head and saw Agnes walking beside me, her small bag slung over my shoulder. She'd insisted on carrying it herself, but I'd taken it anyway.
That went better than expected.
I sighed internally, relief washing through me.
The Duke had examined the red hairs I'd given him with surprising thoroughness.
Held them up to the light, compared them against some description he had written down, even called in someone who seemed to know about identifying beastkins by their physical traits.
"It's her," he'd said finally, satisfaction clear in his voice.
And just like that, the deal was sealed.
