(Almera POV)
Romulus did not send for me.
He came himself.
That was how I knew the second letter had arrived.
The knock at my chamber door was not loud, but it carried weight. The guards announced him only after he was already stepping inside, sunlight following him like a second shadow.
I rose at once.
Not out of fear. Not out of ceremony.
Out of awareness.
His expression was controlled, as always—but something in the set of his shoulders told me this was no minor matter. He did not sit. He did not greet me with casual warmth.
He placed a folded parchment upon my table.
Blue wax.
I did not need to ask.
I walked toward it slowly, though my pulse had already quickened. The seal bore the imperial crest of Constantine—not the softer red of the Empress' correspondence, but the deep indigo pressed by the Emperor's own signet.
So she had moved him.
I broke the seal carefully.
The language was different this time.
More formal. More rigid.
Less silk. More steel.
