(Romulus POV)
A letter had come this morning. The seal was Constantine blue.
I recognized it before the courier finished kneeling.
My fingers closed around the parchment slowly, deliberately, as if speed might betray something unworthy. The wax bore the sigil of House Constantine—not the Emperor's, but the Prince's. A personal letter. Chosen. Intentional.
I dismissed the courier with a nod and did not break the seal until the doors had closed behind him.
The chamber was quiet. Sunlight poured in through the high windows of the Sun Throne Wing, catching on gold inlay and polished stone. It was a room built to amplify power, to remind those who stood within it of who commanded the sands and the sea beyond.
I broke the seal anyway.
The words were neat. Controlled. Not a single flourish wasted on sentiment.
To His Imperial Majesty, Romulus Alessander,
I write not as a rival sovereign, but as a brother whose sister nearly died beyond his reach.
