No, she did not just eat shit in high definition in front of the Lunaris warriors.
Just kidding.
She did, in fact, trip in full view of every fighter on the wall and the gods above. The dress looked damn good, but it was freezing and impractical. Decision made.
It took her fifteen minutes to raid the laundry room and turn into a twelve-year-old squire boy. She looked like any other fighter: hair tucked in, hood up, crown hidden.
Unless someone scented her or saw her face, they'd have no idea that a royal pain in the ass was undercover.
Things were going according to plan right until the sky ripped open and started vomiting demons. Dark rifts split wide, winged bodies surged through in tidy groups of six. She stared upward in disbelief and her hood chose that exact moment to abandon ship.
Immediately, Tyler was at her side.
"Gwen? What in the—you know what, never mind. Let's get you inside. Now."
She didn't look at him, her eyes fixed on the sky. "What are those things?"
