[Eight days ago]
When the letter arrived, cream parchment sealed with ice-blue wax bearing Nevareth's crest. Formal. Elegant. A blade wrapped in silk.
Emperor Soren Nivarre and Lady Eris Igniva cordially invite…
The words blurred together after that. Wedding. Three days. Ceremony. Attendance requested.
That morning, Caelen continued to at the invitation until the ink seemed to swim, until his hands shook holding it, until the paper crumpled slightly under his grip.
Three days.
The wedding would happen in three days from when this letter arrived, and Nevareth was two weeks away by standard travel. Two weeks of royal processions and diplomatic stops and ceremonial nonsense that kings were expected to perform.
He couldn't stop it. Couldn't arrive in time to...
To what?
Object? Beg? Drag her back to Solmire like some lovesick fool?
