The Forbidden Heir

The Sealed Letter

I was rooted where I was, the envelope in my hand, the manila paper slick with my sweaty hand. Julian loomed over me in the corridor, his tall, outstretched body casting the light of the chandelier away. His eyes, sharp, questioning, unreadable, were not on me, but on what I desperately attempted to conceal behind my back.

"What've you got there?" He said it low, but it cut through the quiet like a blade.

I beat a pause. All my reflexes screamed at me to lie, to downplay, to say it was nothing. But I wasn't made for lies, not when I was caught red-handed like a child with pilfered sweets. "It's… something somebody gave me."

"Somebody?" His eyebrows scuttled higher. "Who?"

I swallowed. The stranger's face came to mind, those watchful eyes, the way he'd spoken to me as if he knew me, knew things I didn't even know were there. Something made me think that to say his name here, out loud, in front of Julian, would be a mistake.

"I don't know," I lied. The words sounded unconvincing, even to me.

Julian's eyes narrowed. He sat there, eyes fixed, for a while. Then he extended his hand slowly. "Give it to me."

The need floated between us. My heart jolted, as though I had been caught out in a lie out of which there was no return. There was something inside me that rebelled at the implication that if I produced the letter now, I would be losing something precious, something to me and to me alone.

"I'll read it first, I believe," I told him, my tone firm though my gut churned.

His jaws locked. A muscle spasmed at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, I knew he'd snatch it from me. But then, just as quickly, he seemed to uncoil, and his hand fell back to his side. "Very well. Read it. But be cautious, Alexandra. Not all presents need to be unwrapped."

I could not answer before he turned on his heel and disappeared down the passage, his boots sounding into the vacant hollowness of the house.

I remained fixed to the spot, breath trembling out of me, the envelope clutched against my breast. Why had he retreated so easily? Why sounded his warning less like advice, more like a threat?

Later, in the privacy of my bedroom, I sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. The envelope in front of me, the seal not yet broken. A serpent around a crown, stamped in blood-red wax. The symbol itself was foul to me.

My father's crest.

My fingers trembled as I pried a fingernail beneath the seal. The wax cricked with tiny, accusatory break. Inside, a solitary sheet of thick parchment was hidden, its yellow-edged margins elegantly framed.

I smoothed it out, my heart pounding, my breath caught.

The hand was recognizable, large and hard, the kind that left no doubt. My father's handwriting.

Lexi,

If you're reading this, then they've found you. You are in more danger than you can imagine. Trust is your best ally, and worst enemy. Do not let Julian Blackwood get his hands on your inheritance. He will offer you things, but he has a motive. There is someone else you need to find. Someone who knows the real story about your mother, why I have kept you in seclusion. Look for the man who has the ring of the serpent in his hand. He will give you information I cannot. But be careful of Victoria. She will kill you if she has her way. The letter broke off, as if in mid-sentence.

I covered my mouth with my hand. My father had vowed I would be caught. He'd known Julian. Victoria. About my mother? My heart cramped. He'd kept me hidden in order to protect me… from what?

The words ran together as the tears piled up, but there was one picture that seared itself into my mind: the man who wore the serpent ring.

I recalled the stranger at the ball. The way his eyes tracked me, the sound of his voice. Was he engaged in a ring fight? My head wrestled with itself, reaching for facts hidden in the mists of that night.

The door creaked open, and I leapt, pushing the letter back into the envelope.

Julian leaned one shoulder on the doorframe, crossing his arms, looking at me in that maddening calmness. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

I constricted my throat. "You knew."

"I know a great many things." His gaze passed over to the still-clenched envelope in my hand before returning to my face. "And I know that curiosity kills more cats than it does."

"Was my dad scared of you?" The words flew out before I could grab them.

His eyes grew darker, but not his complexion. "You don't want to hear the answer."

The words lodged in me like a splinter in my body. He moved out of the doorway and into the room and didn't stop until he'd moved close enough I could feel the warmth from him.

You think something years old in a letter is more real than what you have standing right in front of you?" He did it low, close to a growl. "Do you have any idea at all, of the game you've entered?"

"I stepped into no game," I snapped, clenching my hand around the envelope in my fingers. "You dragged me here."

His lips curled, not in a smile, something darker. "You're here because you were always supposed to be."

I'd not had a chance to answer before he extended his hand. For a second, I'd thought that he was going to take the envelope after all. But instead he swept a loose strand of hair from my forehead, and for a fleeting moment, his fingers touched mine before pulling back.

"Sleep, Alexandra. You will need your strength." His voice was rough, unyielding, as he spun and disappeared from the room, closing the door brutally behind him with a sharp snap.

I sat there, the letter still warm in my lap, my father's words echoing through me like a second pulse. Find the man with the serpent ring.

I have no idea how long I sat there before plain exhaustion finally began to overwhelm me.

But when I woke up in the middle of the night, what had fallen over me was not sleep. It was fear.

The room was dark, the shadows heavy and hideous. And on the bedside table, where I had left the sealed envelope, was something more.

A second envelope.

Same wax. Same crest. But on this trip, scrawled across the front in black letters were four chilling words:

"You are not alone."

And before my breath was taken, the soft creak of footsteps was heard outside my door.