The death anniversary of Alaric's father was tomorrow, and Luciana had arrived at the royal estate the night before. She was now staying in the South Palace, in the wing reserved for the royal family.
Ronan should have been at her side, but her foolish husband was still out chasing his whore.
Luciana's eyes fell on the gown laid out by her servants for tomorrow's event.
It was stunning—a tailored masterpiece meant to match Ronan's regal attire. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine the admiration she would draw, only for her mood to sour again.
A knock sounded at the door. Before Luciana's servant could even reach it, a folded note was slipped inside.
"Luna Luciana, a note has arrived for you," the servant said, picking it up and handing it to her. She opened the door at once, but the hallway was already empty. No one was there.
