The following morning dawned dim and gray, as if the skies themselves were hesitant about what the day might bring.
Lucien stood atop the stone terrace, eyes scanning the fog-covered hills. Rowan had just left him with an update, Samuel had intercepted a messenger riding from the Petra border, carrying a sealed letter addressed not to the crown, but to Lady Liora Miral. The use of her family name chilled Lucien more than the cold wind that whipped around him now.
Back inside the estate, Liora sat at her desk, fingers tracing over the small comb Beatrice had left behind. The woman's words still echoed: "Sometimes, your worth is buried under what others bury you with. Dig deep, girl. You might find something they fear."
She barely registered Lucien entering the room until the door clicked shut.
He was holding a sealed scroll.
She rose, her brows narrowing. "What is it?"
"A message," he said, his voice unreadable. "It was meant for you."
