Lucien didn't sleep that night.
The candle burned low, flickering shadows across the letter he had now read a dozen times. The Eastern script was delicately curved and coded, it wasn't something common in the Western court. Few could write it. Even fewer could dare send such a message through his borders.
And it wasn't only about Liora. Her name wasn't mentioned. But the description mentioned "the girl with ash-brown eyes and the healer's mark, sheltered beneath a fallen star," which was unmistakable.
"What do they want with her?" Lucien murmured, voice low, teeth clenched.
Rowan stood nearby, arms crossed. "If she is who they say she is… there's more to her than even she knows."
Lucien rose, pacing slowly. "No. We're not going to treat her like a prophecy or a pawn. She's not some tool to be passed between courts."
Rowan didn't argue. "So what will you do?"
Lucien looked up, expression hardened. "Keep this between us. And keep her close."
