← Chapter 24: Beneath the Festival Lights | 📖 Series Index | Chapter 26: False Accusations →
Time stretched like hot metal on an anvil as Erik, the merchant’s son, and his companions formed a predatory circle around Mikhail and Anora. The festival lights cast their faces in amber and shadow, turning sneers into grotesque masks. A crowd gathered in a widening ring, conversations dying into an eerie hush. The music faded note by note until only the soft crackle of torches and the distant call of night birds broke the silence.
“Let go of my hand!” Erik roared, his ale-soaked breath visible in plumes as it met the cooling night air. The veins in his neck bulged like rope beneath skin, his face flushed crimson with drink and rage. His companions shifted their weight onto the balls of their feet, hands moving to the hilts of blades with the casual confidence of men accustomed to getting their way through force.
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