Aiden sat by the window, a single letter resting unopened on the table before him.
The wax seal glowed faintly crimson, bearing the sigil of Augustus, Viscount of the leonidus Marches. Beside the parchment lay another document, the sigil of the Holy Seat still broken where his fingers had torn it days ago. Two letters. Two worlds colliding.
He did not touch it yet. He simply watched the rain run down the glass, the drops racing each other like threads of time unspooling toward a single end.
Behind him, Catherine moved with that measured grace only she possessed, her footsteps whispering through the silence.
Her gown, pale and sleeveless, caught the firelight as she crossed the room, casting wavering reflections across the bookshelves.
"You've been staring at that letter for an hour," she said softly.
Aiden smiled without turning. "It's polite to let bad news speak first."
Her fingers brushed the back of his chair, a fleeting touch. "It's from... Augustus?"
