"I dare say you'll do well here, Lady Liora. Provided you... tread carefully."
The warning was subtle. Threat and advice wrapped in a single breath.
Liora dipped her head. Inside, her mind raced.
Enemies dressed as allies. Allies hidden among enemies. She would have to walk a razor's edge.
But she had survived worse.
She could survive this.
Later That Night
A black-cloaked rider slipped through the gates of Blackthorne Estate, unseen.
In his hand was a sealed missive, addressed only to Lucien Blackthorne.
The war for the crown had begun. And in wars like these, only the most ruthless would survive.
The estate seemed different after nightfall, cloaked in shadows, thick with the weight of secrets.
In the highest tower of Blackthorne, Lucien waited, staring out the window toward the barren stretch of road leading to the woods. Only the pale light of the moon illuminated the cold stone floors.
A knock came — precise, two short, one long.
