When Luna stepped out of the king's carriage, she walked as far away as she could from where Draven stood so she wouldn't fall into his line of sight again. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each step taking her further from the heat of his gaze. The king was speaking to the twins, who had already arrived at the pack house from the scaffold, and they were speaking in hushed tones that barely carried through the cold air.
She noticed that the back of the king was straight, shoulders tense as if whatever the knight was telling him was something he did not wish to hear. The muscles beneath his coat flexed with restrained tension. He didn't glance back once, even when he knew that she was right behind him. And Luna hated how her eyes followed him anyway, drawn to him against her will.
