The afternoon light had already begun to slant low and golden across the palace floors when I returned to my chambers, body still humming from the morning's ride with Harlan, skin still carrying the faint scent of river water and wild grass. My arm ached where the bandage Gavin had tied yesterday had finally been removed, leaving a thin pink line that felt more like a promise than a scar. The sigils on my chest and hips glowed softly beneath my tunic, a constant, quiet reminder that the power inside me was no longer sleeping.
I pushed open the door, expecting silence, maybe a tray of untouched tea left by a servant who knew better than to linger.
Instead, on the small table beside my bed, there was a single folded piece of cream parchment.
No seal. No name. Just the paper, resting there like it had always belonged.
