The next day,

Author

The fire in the study burned low, painting the oak walls in shifting shades of amber and shadow. Malphas stood by the desk, the heavy parchment in his hands folded tight enough to whiten the edges, his crimson eyes dark with a storm he was keeping carefully contained.

Aria sat in the armchair, one boot propped on the edge of the hearth, turning a small dungeon crystal over between her fingers. She had felt the shift in the bond ten minutes earlier - a sharp spike of cold, of duty, of old obligations waking up to demand their due. She did not ask what was wrong....