The estate gates opened with a low metallic groan as the carriage rolled inside. Lanterns lined the path, their light reflecting off polished stone and trimmed hedges.
Normally, the sight brought a sense of calm.
Tonight, it did not.
I straightened when I saw them.
My father stood at the entrance steps, dressed not in court attire but full formal military uniform. Dark coat. Medals polished to a sharp gleam. His posture was rigid, familiar in a way that tugged at something old and uneasy in my chest.
Behind him stood several men I recognized immediately. Veterans. Commanders. Men who did not leave their posts unless something had gone terribly wrong.
[Ah,] Nero said mildly. [That is not the welcoming committee.]
The carriage came to a halt.
Elias stepped down first and turned back, offering his hand. I took it, letting him help me down, though my attention never left my father.
He turned as soon as my feet touched the ground.
"Seraphina."
