[Silthara Palace—Courtyard—Continuation]
The flowers trembled, not from wind—there was none—but from something moving with intent.
Levin held his ground.
His dagger remained steady in his hand, blade angled low, ready. He did not shout. He did not retreat. The warmth of the morning vanished from his awareness as his senses sharpened.
"Stay back," he repeated, quieter now—but firmer.
Behind him, attendants obeyed instantly, retreating toward the pillars. Iru rose from his knees at once, positioning himself half a step behind Levin, eyes fixed on the shifting hedge.
"Consort, allow me to—"
"No," Levin replied without turning. "If it rushes, then you move."
The rustling stopped for one breath. Then the leaves parted and—"Mrrr–raow?"
The sound was small. Uncertain. Almost apologetic.
Levin blinked.
So did everyone else.
