"If the curse was a seal, and that seal is now gone..."
Sylas slowly folded the scroll into a tight, narrow square, his thumbs pressing hard against the thick parchment until the blue wax seal crumbled into fine dust upon his knee. His eyes, cold and pale as winter frost, remained fixed upon the final jagged line of the report.
"Then Aurelia is no longer merely a king's wife sitting quietly in a high tower, wearing silk and jewels while the affairs of kingdoms pass beneath her window."
He lifted his gaze to Priscilla. "She is an unchecked force."
Priscilla studied him from beneath the heavy crimson coverlet. Her shoulders were bare, flushed faintly from the warmth of the hearth, but her expression grew increasingly distant as the true weight of his words settled between them.
She reached out, her slender fingers tracing the dark, spiraling embroidery along the edge of the blanket, though her eyes never left his face.
