Julian pulled Lucius up into his brown horse and fastened the saddle, his touch gentle but efficient, and then got on the horse as well. He made sure not to linger on the Duke's reaction, or to give Alaric the slightest delusion that this choice to reject the Emperor's offer had been born of some personal attachment or Northern loyalty.
It was a calculation. A cold, hard look at the odds of survival.
Duke Alaric let out a sharp, exhaled breath, his jaw tightening. He didn't look relieved; he looked unsettled. Julian's pragmatism was a barrier he didn't know how to breach.
"The woods are deep," Alaric muttered, his hand gripping the reins until the leather creaked. "Stay behind me and don't wander into the shadows."
"Don't worry, Your Grace, I plan to stick right by your side." Especially when in the sea of 0% affection, he was the only one with an affection level that could actually save him if his life was in danger.
