Chapter 13
The hawk returned on the fifth day.
It circled once, like it was judging my worthiness, then descended with the smooth, deadly grace of a creature trained for high-stakes politics. Its talons gleamed. Its beak gleamed. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if it could recite imperial law.
I took the letter it carried with exaggerated care. The wax seal was deep black, threaded through with silver veins that shimmered as if alive. Regal. Intimidating. Probably enchanted to kill the unworthy on contact.
Kellan stepped forward, brow furrowed. "Shall I… scan it for curses, my lady?"
I waved him off. "If Kael Vire wanted me dead, I'd be vapor by now. I doubt he uses passive-aggressive stationary to do his killing."
Still, I held my breath as I cracked the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of thick parchment. No frills. No crest. Just bold, meticulous handwriting that made me feel like I was being observed through the ink.
Your proposal is absurd.
Your insight is unnerving.
Your terms are acceptable.
My carriage will arrive within the week.
—Kael Vire
I blinked. Then again.
Then I laughed.
Not a dignified, noblewoman's laugh. A slightly unhinged, I-can't-believe-that-worked laugh. The kind of laugh that gets you escorted out of diplomatic meetings.
"He's coming," I said aloud, more to myself than anyone else.
Elias was at the doorway, already holding a practice sword for reasons I didn't want to ask about. "Who's coming?"
I turned to him, grin still twitching at the edge of my lips. "The Grand Duke."
Elias's face did something I rarely saw—it moved. He blinked twice and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to zoom in on my sanity.
"You wrote to Kael Vire," he said slowly.
"I did."
"You proposed an engagement."
"Yes."
"And he said yes."
"He said my proposal was absurd, my insight was unnerving, and my terms were acceptable. So yes, in terrifying man language."
Elias squinted. "Are you sure this isn't a fever dream?"
"I haven't had a fever since I got here."
"That's not comforting."
I tossed the letter onto the table. The black wax cracked like thunder as it hit the wood.
Kellan cleared his throat. "So… shall we prepare?"
"Yes. Immediately," I said. "We have four, maybe five days before Kael Vire descends upon us like a socially awkward hurricane. Everything needs to look—" I waved vaguely—"functional. Controlled. Elegant but not desperate."
"We live in a house where the windows whistle and the soup pot has a name," Elias reminded me.
"That's why this will be a miracle, not a makeover."
I retreated to the study after dinner, Kael's letter sitting like a weighted stone on the desk.
It wasn't long. It wasn't warm. But somehow it felt more sincere than any political letter I'd ever read.
There were no flattery lines. No offers of tribute. Not even a request for further discussion.
He was just coming.
That fast.
No negotiation. No hesitation.
Just a decision.
That terrified me more than a no ever could.
Later that night, Elias found me in the library, books piled high on both sides of my chair.
He walked in like he was patrolling the perimeter, eyes sharp, quiet as a shadow.
"You really think he'll help?" he asked eventually.
I didn't answer immediately. I turned a page, stared at words I wasn't reading, then finally said, "I think he doesn't play games. And right now, the world is being run by people who do."
Elias sat across from me, tucking one leg under the other, posture too rigid for his age.
"If he hurts you, I'll kill him," he said casually.
I smiled without looking up. "That's sweet, but I'm trying not to die either."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
And I did. Elias didn't threaten lightly. His protectiveness wasn't loud, but it was absolute. Somewhere between spell diagrams and half-eaten tarts, I'd become someone he didn't want to lose.
Maybe the only one.
I returned to Kael's letter again before bed, rereading the words.
Your proposal is absurd.
Fair.
Your insight is unnerving.
A compliment, if you squint.
Your terms are acceptable.
That was the part that echoed.
He wasn't amused. He wasn't charmed. He was… interested.
Which meant I had exactly five days to turn this crumbling house, haunted child, and accidental marriage plot into something that wouldn't get me killed.
And if I couldn't do that?
Well, I still had the soup pot.
And a backup escape tunnel.
.
.
.
.
.
End of Chapter 13