After finishing my usual routine outside—tightening the reins, exchanging a few curt nods with the black steel knight beside me, pretending as though I wasn't constantly calculating the distance between myself and every possible threat—I finally stepped down and pushed open the carriage door.
The moment it creaked open, the smell hit me.
No, "smell" is too gentle a word. It was an assault. A suffocating, thick, almost sentient stench of sweat, dirt, unwashed bodies, and fear fermented under desert heat. It rushed straight into my nostrils like toxic fumes, so dense I genuinely wondered if I could choke on it.
I froze at the entrance, hand still on the handle.
For a brief second, I just stared at them.
They stared back.
