The winter wolf seal felt like a live coal in my hand. The crisp parchment, the stark blue wax, the bold, slashing script—it was a demand, not a request. At your earliest convenience. From a Duke, that meant now.
Elara, peering over my shoulder, let out a low whistle. "He doesn't waste words, does he? 'Mutual security.' Sounds serious. And dreadfully romantic." She winked, but her eyes were watchful. She knew the weight of her brother's attention.
"It's political," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. But it was a lie we both acknowledged. Nothing about Kaelen Frost was ever just political.
