Inside the grand carriage, where velvet curtains swayed softly with every bump and the scent of crushed roses lingered like a ghost, Grand Duke Silas sat lost in a tangle of increasingly paranoid thoughts.
That baker…
His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening just slightly. He wasn't one to let commoners slip under his radar. And yet—
"…The way he looked at us. Like he knew. Like he heard things."
Silas exhaled slowly, dragging a gloved hand through his tousled silver hair. "Suspicious…"
Elize had already checked the baker's background, top to bottom—twice. No flags. No strange affiliations. No criminal records. Just a bland, flour-covered life filled with cinnamon rolls and unfortunate facial hair.
Silas sighed and muttered, "Am I thinking too much…?"
A little weight shifted on his shoulder.
Wiggle. Wiggle.
Silas stilled.
Another wiggle.
And then, a soft mumble. "…Mm… Am I in the ocean...?"
