Aveline
The knock at my door was gentle—too soft for any of Matteo’s guards.
I didn’t move from where I sat by the arched window, knees curled beneath me, fingers tracing the swirling condensation of my breath on the glass. The morning air was crisp, but the chill inside me ran deeper than temperature.
Another knock. Then a hesitant voice.
“Avi? It’s Mila.”
I exhaled, already bracing myself. “Come in.”
She stepped in, her usual smile absent. The tray in her hands bore no breakfast today—just a single rolled parchment bound with a dark red wax seal. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and she didn’t have to say a word for me to know that whatever she carried wasn’t good.
“What is it?” I asked, rising slowly to my feet.
She didn’t answer at first, just walked forward and extended the s
