"Gideon's invitation promised safety. It delivered danger."
I should have known better than to trust parchment sealed with honeyed words and silver lies.
The invitation had arrived at dawn, delivered by a servant boy who'd vanished before I could question him. The wax seal bore the Wicke family crest-that raven with spread wings clutching twisted iron branches-pressed deep into crimson wax that looked disturbingly like dried blood in the morning light.
The message within had been crafted with surgical precision, each word chosen to soothe suspicion while stroking pride: A private sparring session between equals. No audience, no politics-just skill against skill. Perhaps it's time we cleared the air between us.
Nothing about Gideon Wicke had ever been equal or fair, but refusing his cha
