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Three days later, a small, sealed envelope arrived at the stronghold. It was not delivered by messenger, not carried by post hawk, not handed to a guard at the gate. It simply appeared on the table in Aria’s private study, placed exactly in the center of her open notebook, as if someone had set it down while she turned her head.

There was no wax seal. No crest. No name written on the outside. The paper was thick, cream-colored, cut to a size no scribe in the realm used. When Aria broke the seal and unfolded it, the handwriting was neat, sharp, and entirely unfamiliar - no loops, no...