"Elara Sterling is in danger," Alaric announced, his voice cutting through the tense silence of his study. His fist came down hard on the desk, making the maps and papers jump. "If the Night Weavers have connected her to this 'Starling's heir' reference, they'll go after her next."
I paced nervously by the window, watching as stable hands prepared our horses in the courtyard below. The morning light cast long shadows across the estate grounds, but the beauty of dawn did nothing to ease my growing anxiety.
"How could we have missed this?" I murmured, more to myself than to Alaric. "The Starling's heir... it's so obvious now."
Clara sat huddled in a chair near the fireplace, her usual haughty demeanor replaced by genuine fear. "What does this Mistress Sterling have to do with anything?" she asked, her voice small.
