Marcus shifted his weight. "I didn't read it. But the messenger said it was an invitation."
Of course it was.
Alaric let out a breath that sounded more like a scoff. "So she planned this."
Arin frowned. "Planned what?"
"This," Alaric said, gesturing vaguely with his glass. "Running to her family. Staying the night. Now an invitation like nothing is wrong."
Marcus glanced between them, sensing he'd stepped into something far bigger than a simple delivery.
Arin took the letter from Marcus instead and looked at the seal. "This doesn't feel like a trap."
Alaric's eyes snapped to him. "Everything feels like a trap when someone you trust stops telling you the truth."
Arin sighed. "Or when you stop listening."
Alaric shot him a warning look, then reached out and took the letter. He didn't open it right away. His thumb traced the edge of the parchment, slow, thoughtful.
Marcus cleared his throat. "Should I..."
"You can go," Alaric said without looking at him.
