Duke Viktor Virelya's study smelled like leather and old paper and the faint smoke from his pipe.
He sat behind a massive oak desk, reviewing accounts with the kind of focus that made him one of the wealthiest men in the Border Territories. Numbers didn't lie. People did. Viktor preferred the former.
When his door opened without warning, he looked up, ready to reprimand whichever servant had forgotten proper protocol.
Then he saw Bianca and relaxed. His daughter was the only person in the estate who didn't need to knock.
"Father." She crossed the room with quick steps, no birds this time. "We've been summoned to the capital."
His eyebrows rose. "By whom?"
She handed him the letter without ceremony. "The Regent Empress herself."
Viktor took it, unfolded it, read with increasing tension in his shoulders. When he finished, he set the letter down with more force than necessary.
"That foreign witch."
