Ayla’s POV
The letter arrived at breakfast.
Not through normal mail. Not slipped under my door or handed to me by a guard.
It simply appeared on my tray when I looked down at my oatmeal. One moment, empty space. The next, a cream-colored envelope with my name written in elaborate calligraphy.
No one else seemed to notice it materialize.
I stared at it, my bandaged hands hovering over the paper. Around me, the dining hall buzzed with gossip about yesterday's fire. About how I'd run in to save those students. About Professor Arkon carrying someone out while stark naked.
I picked up the envelope carefully. It was heavy, expensive. The kind of paper that screamed old money and older power.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
The letter inside was written in the same elegant script:
Mi
