The morning sun had not yet climbed past the high spires of Leonidus Hall when Augustus saw it—the letter.
It lay upon his study table like a coiled serpent, its seal gleaming with the violet sigil of House Merlin. The wax shimmered faintly in the half-light, a serpent devouring its own tail—ancient, noble, and ominous.
He did not need to open the letter to feel the weight of its meaning. He knew that seal, that crest. The Duchess's hand. Sabrina Merlin.
"Of course," he muttered under his breath, voice low, almost bitter. "She always writes when she means to meddle."
His fingers hovered above the letter for a heartbeat before he broke the seal. The parchment unfurled with a whisper that echoed too loudly in the stillness of his chamber. He read.
The words were formal, but the venom beneath them was unmistakable. Denial. Objection. A rejection of his proposal for the union between his daughter Flora and the knight Aiden.
The knight she had once favored.
His throat tightened.
