[Dear High Priest,
I hope your stay at the palace has been enjoyable so far. There will be a haunting festival soon.
I believe I do not need to tell you anything more. Right?
P.S.: Do not forget to burn this letter once you have read it, as always.
Your well-wisher,
Duke Danman.]
The parchment crumpled under the pressure of Enzo's fists, veins visible beneath his skin. His jaw clenched, the muscles of his neck tensing beneath his white robe, as his breath quickened.
"Charles," he growled, voice trembling with anger. "You'd better not be scheming something again. You said we were coming here for peace!"
The older man seated at the table let out a snort. Setting his fork down, he turned his head slightly toward his mate beside him, a faint smirk curving his lips, almost mocking.
"Oh? And you think you have the right to tell me what to do?" His voice was calm, but fury laced in his words, unmistakable.
Enzo glared at him, his whole body trembling with anger.
