[Aeron and Zenovia's POV for the next four chapters...]
Aeron had never liked forests.
Not because he was afraid of them, of course. He would never admit such a thing out loud, especially not with Zenovia walking a few steps ahead of him.
No, it was not fear. It was a healthy and very reasonable distrust of places where the trees were taller than towers, the shadows looked like they had invisible bodies, and every second root on the ground seemed perfectly positioned to trip someone who walked with too much confidence in this place.
Unfortunately, confidence was one thing Aeron had never lacked.
"Do assassins always walk like they are trying to stab you in the back when you are not looking?" he asked quietly.
Zenovia did not look back. "Do men always talk like they're trying to make the world regret giving them a mouth?"
Aeron placed a hand over his heart. "So cruel."
"But completely true."
