Thornecrest's second envoy arrived not as riders but as fire. It started at the eastern watchtower a little past midnight — a controlled burn, precise and deliberate, meant to be seen from every window in Ravenhollow rather than to actually take the tower down entirely. A message, not an attack. Roman read it that way before I'd even finished pulling Skye from her bed, her small body limp with sleep, confused and frightened by the sudden urgency in my hands. "They're telling us they could have burned the whole ridge if they wanted to," he said grimly, watching from the wall as his warriors doused the flames with practiced, efficient speed, the fire dying back into smoke and embers within minutes. "This is a demonstration, Wren. Restraint on display meant to remind us exactly how much restraint they're currently choosing to show. The real conversation happens tomorrow, and it won't be nearly this gentle." It happened at noon, in the courtyard, with an emissary I hadn't expected —
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