Vanda stood at the highest tower of the Dragon Palace, watching the crimson horizon. His jaw was clenched. For the first time since returning from Arven, he felt unease that no battle could explain.
A guard approached, bowing low. "Your Highness, the messenger has returned."
The man handed him a scroll sealed with the crest of Arven. Vanda broke it open. The words were carefully penned in Rosa's elegant hand:
I will not forget the insult. Nor will I forget her face.
Vanda's eyes darkened, the parchment crumbling to ash in his fist.
"Prepare the riders," he commanded coldly. "Spies from Arven linger in my lands. I want them found before they slither back to their master."
The guard hesitated. "And the maid, sire? Should she be moved to safer quarters?"
For a long moment, Vanda said nothing. Then, his voice low: "She stays close. Very close. They will have to cut through me first."
But as he turned away, a shadow crossed his gaze. He knew Rosa's poison well.
And if she dared set her sights on Daya…