Chapter 44
The Merchant’s Manor
The sun hung low over Caerywn, the capital of Velmora, as the final golden hues of the day bathed the city in a warm, regal glow. Ivory towers caught the light like spears of flame, and banners along the high walls fluttered gently in the breeze.
But beneath the grandeur of the capital’s skyline, a quieter, narrower road wound its way toward the aging manor of House Crydias.
The carriage—black, lacquered, and crested with the faded emblem of the merchant house—rumbled gently through the wrought-iron gates. As it passed, they closed behind with a sharp clang, barring the estate from the outside world. No common eyes would witness what followed.
Virellen stood at the foot of the marble staircase leading to the manor’s main doors. She was no longer garbed in her maid’s attire. Instead, she wore a fitted gown of storm-gray silk and high boots of ash leather, subtle jewelry adorning her ears and wrists.
Her posture was elegant, her shoulders straight, and her expression carried both mischief and the restraint expected of a noblewoman.
The carriage door opened. Alaric stepped out first, his coat long and simple, his presence heavy in the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Behind him, the girls descended one by one.
Aurevia, poised and regal, stepped with pride. Her white hair was tied back in a braided crown, and her crimson eyes flicked briefly over the grounds with cool judgment.
Cellione, bold and confident, gave a soft whistle as she looked up at the aging architecture, violet eyes sparkling beneath golden locks.
Last came Serineth, quiet as ever, clinging softly to Cellione’s sleeve. Her green hair had been brushed to silk, her blue eyes cautious but calm.