Azrael sat at her grand ebony writing desk, the glow of the candelabra casting flickering shadows across the parchment. A silver dagger rested beside her, its sharp edge still glistening with her own blood. She dipped the quill into the crimson liquid pooled on the desk, her strokes steady as she wrote.
***Draven,***
***I should have written sooner. I should have reached out the moment I knew. But my father… he intercepted your letter. He burned it before I could read it. I only found out after confronting him.***
***I now know what you wrote to me, and I know it was extremely important. And I know that if you had the choice, you would have told me yourself.***
***I’m sorry for the silence.***
***I really don't know how to feel about your mother arranging another mate for you. And announcing her as your Luna and marking her in front of your entire pack.***
***Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine that somewhere, maybe in an alternate reality, that would be you and me. You announcing me as Luna to your pack and marking me in front of them. But that is only a dream.***
***I may not know much about your race but I do know of the repercussions of taking another as your mate when you already have one. I still feel fine so I assume you didn't go through with it and I'm very glad but also extremely worried for you.***
***Are you okay?***
***There's something else I want to tell you about. I wanted you to hear this from me before you hear it from anyone else—I am no longer free to choose my fate. My father has given my hand in marriage to King Seraphim of Norrix. I had no say in the matter, and I don’t know what this means for us.***
***But I know this:***
***The night of the ball… we were attacked. It was an ambush, an army of Lycans striking at the heart of our kingdom, killing our people in the halls of our own palace. And they were not just from one pack. They came from many. Including yours.***
***I do not believe you would betray the truce without cause. I do not believe you would send your warriors to massacre my kin without reason. But I need to know the truth.***
***I need to hear it from you.***
***Draven… I miss you. More than I should. More than I can afford to.***
***Please, write back.***
***—Azrael***
She exhaled slowly, reading over the words, her own heart twisting at what she had put to paper. Too much? Not enough? It didn’t matter. There was no time for hesitation.
Azrael pressed the tip of her finger against the parchment, her own blood seeping into the fibers as she whispered the enchantment. The crimson seal on the letter flared for a moment before settling into a dull glow.
She traced the wax with her fingertip, speaking his name softly, binding the letter to him and him alone. “Draven.”
The moment the spell took hold, the parchment darkened, the blood disappearing from view, hidden from all except its intended recipient.
She had barely risen from her chair when the door creaked open.
“Azrael?”
Her head snapped up, her muscles tensing as she instinctively pressed the letter against her back, concealing it behind her. Eva stood in the doorway, one elegant brow raised, her icy blue eyes filled with curiosity.
“The court meeting is about to commence,” Eva informed her, her voice even. “Your father is expecting you.”
Azrael nodded, attempting to mask the tension in her body. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
But Eva didn’t leave. She remained standing at the door, watching her. Observing.
“You’re acting strange,” Eva noted, taking a slow step forward.
Azrael forced a small smirk. “I was nearly killed two nights ago. Forgive me if I’m not entirely myself.”
Eva tilted her head, unconvinced. “I doubt that’s the reason.”
Azrael clenched her jaw. “Eva, leave. I will be there shortly.”
For a moment, it seemed as though Eva would obey. She nodded and turned, reaching for the door.
And then—
The letter slipped from Azrael’s grip.
The parchment hit the stone floor between them.
Eva’s reaction was instant. Her hair—long, serpentine, and alive with magic—lashed forward, curling around the letter before Azrael could even move.
The tendrils of her platinum blonde hair lifted the letter into the air, bringing it directly to her waiting hand.
Eva’s icy blue eyes narrowed as she turned it over. “And what is this?”
Azrael’s stomach clenched. She took a slow step forward, her voice low, warning. “Give it to me.”
Eva hummed, inspecting the blood-sealed parchment. “Blood magic,” she noted. “A rather intimate spell, meant for one recipient. And given your reaction, I’d say it’s quite urgent.”
“Eva.”
Eva lifted her gaze, locking eyes with her. “Who is this meant for, Azrael?”
The room felt unbearably still.
Azrael didn’t answer. She couldn't think of something to say.
Eva took another step closer, her voice softer now, laced with something unreadable. “Azrael,” she repeated. “Who is the letter for?”