The Red Salon was unlike any other room Aaron had seen in the mansion. Velvet curtains of deep crimson covered the tall windows, and gold-lined bookshelves held titles with no names—only strange runes and symbols burned into their spines. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long, shifting shadows across the marble floor.
Aaron stood just behind Lord Frankfurt Pierce, who had taken a seat in a high-backed chair, his posture as commanding as ever. Despite the early hour, his appearance was immaculate. Aaron, meanwhile, still wore his plain servant's attire, feeling increasingly out of place in a room that reeked of power and secrets.
The door opened.
She entered like a blade cutting through fog.
Tall, poised, and cloaked in navy silk trimmed with silver thread, the emissary carried herself with the ease of someone who had delivered royal ultimatums before breakfast. Her black gloves were spotless. A silver crest pinned at her shoulder bore the symbol of the House of Eldemar—the ruling bloodline of Maro.
She gave a shallow nod to Frankfurt. "Lord Pierce."
"Lady Adrienne," he replied smoothly, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What brings the court to my doorstep before dawn?"
Her gaze flicked briefly to Aaron, then back to Frankfurt. "I was unaware you had taken on new help."
Frankfurt didn't look at Aaron. "He's under my personal employ. You may speak freely."
Aaron could feel her measuring him, as though weighing what secrets his skin might conceal.
Adrienne stepped forward, removing a sealed envelope from within her cloak and placing it on the nearby table. "The King's inner circle is... disturbed. There are whispers. Strange disturbances across the kingdom—sightings, disappearances, anomalies that haven't been seen since the War of Flame nearly a century ago."
Aaron furrowed his brow slightly but said nothing.
"And what," Frankfurt said, slowly lifting the envelope, "does this have to do with me?"
Lady Adrienne's voice dropped. "Your bloodline has always had… affinities. Your estate sits atop the Old Lines. If anyone would sense the tremors, it would be you."
"Flattering," Frankfurt murmured, breaking the seal with a flick of his finger.
Aaron watched as the letter unfolded itself midair—floating, shimmering with faint blue runes. The words appeared in silver ink, scrolling across the page with quiet elegance. He caught glimpses:
> "Disturbance near the Eastern Reach…"
"a child with sky-colored eyes… vanishing without a trace…"
"…blue flame recorded by scouts in the woods of Hollowmere."
Frankfurt read in silence. When he finished, the letter disintegrated into ash midair.
He rose slowly.
"I will consider the matter. But I no longer involve myself in court affairs."
Adrienne narrowed her eyes. "You may not have a choice this time. The old blood is stirring again, Frankfurt. And it rarely does so without consequence."
Her words hung heavy in the air. She turned sharply, her cloak trailing behind her like the shadow of a falling curtain.
But just before she exited, she glanced at Aaron one more time—and this time, there was something in her eyes. Not suspicion. Not contempt.
Recognition.
And then she was gone.
---
The silence in the salon felt thicker after her departure.
Aaron shifted uneasily. "What was in that letter?"
Frankfurt walked over to the window, watching the early morning fog curl around the garden trees. "The kind of things that should stay forgotten."
"Did it have anything to do with me?" Aaron asked, before he could stop himself.
Frankfurt turned slowly, his eyes unreadable. "Tell me, Aaron… Have you ever felt something burning under your skin when you're afraid? Or angry? A warmth that doesn't belong?"
Aaron stiffened. "…Sometimes. I thought it was just me."
"It isn't."
He approached Aaron, slowly, deliberately. "There are forces in this world older than kings and mightier than armies. Magic that existed before the throne of Maro was ever forged. Bloodlines born from fire, air, shadow, and stars."
He stopped a pace away from Aaron and stared into his eyes—the sky-colored eyes that no Hotveil ever shared.
"You've seen the dreams. That's only the beginning."
Aaron swallowed, every instinct screaming questions. But something else—something inside him—was waiting. Like a door creaking open, slow and inevitable.
Frankfurt's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The court thinks I know what's coming. They're wrong."
Aaron's voice cracked. "Then who does?"
Frankfurt smiled, and for the first time, it looked… almost sad.
"You will."