Tall windows in the Redwood manor allowed the winter wind to come through and toss old parchments all around the east wing study. The fire in the fireplace burned fiercely and its burning looked unsettled when the room began to fill with passion.
And at the center of it all stood Maddy.
Still. Silent. Seething.
In her hand, she clutched a torn envelope—her own handwriting barely legible beneath the crumple lines. The message had been returned by one of the ravens she had sent out earlier that week.
Sophia never kept the letter.
She didn’t acknowledge it.
She didn’t send a reply.
She didn’t even dignify Maddy’s “heartfelt apology” with a polite rejection.
She’d simply burned it.
Word had spread fast.
First through the whispers of border scouts, then confirmed by one of the courier
