The wards hum before the knock comes.
Not like a breach—no shriek of alarm, no pressure spike that would send the runes glowing hot—but a low, steady vibration that makes the floorboards tremble beneath my bare feet. The air feels charged, as if the whole house is holding its breath.
William is already standing in the doorway when I turn toward him. His eyes are pale and sharp, focused on something far beyond the walls.
“That vibration,” I whisper. “It’s not an attack, is it?”
“No.” His tone is clipped. “It’s a summons.”
Grams looks up from her writing desk, where she’s been etching symbols into strips of parchment. “He is invoking the Compact,” she says flatly.
“The what?” I ask, scanning between them.
“The Council Compact,” Grams explains. “It’s an ancient law between Houses—a dip
