The dawn came cold and colorless.

Mist curled over the training grounds, wrapping the packhouse in a hush that felt more like warning than peace. Bella stood by the window of her chamber, hands resting on her abdomen, eyes fixed on the pale light bleeding over the horizon.

Behind her, Alfred dressed in silence. The air between them was tight—too many words unsaid, too many fears neither dared to voice.

When the knock came, it was soft. Sarah’s voice followed.

“Bella… they’ve called ...