Lan Family Manor, casting long shadows across the white courtyard stones. The scent of spirit herbs wafted from the back gardens where the evening dew began to form on the emerald leaves.
Manuka Lan, dressed in her herbalist robes now dusted with market ash and pollen, stepped through the wooden gate of the manor, exhausted yet oddly restless. She had just returned from the city market—where she spent half the day walking beside Phillip Salt, listening to his teasing words, his maddening confidence, and that ever-so-irritating smirk that lingered on her mind.
Her footsteps slowed the moment she passed the courtyard. A chill wind cut through her bones—not from the air, but from the atmosphere inside the main hall, where her entire family stood waiting.
