The journey to Swift River territory stretched for hours through dense forest. I sat stiffly in the second vehicle, maintaining my composure despite the growing tension. Ahead of us, Raymond and Giana rode together in the lead car, occasionally visible when the winding road straightened.
Throughout the trip, I noticed a troubling pattern. Whenever our convoy stopped for brief rests or to navigate difficult terrain, I would approach Raymond to discuss diplomatic preparations. Each time, Giana would quickly pull him aside, whispering urgently.
After these exchanges, Raymond would regard me with increasing coldness, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. The pattern was unmistakable—she was actively poisoning him against me at every opportunity.
"We'll be arriving shortly, Luna," my driver ann
