(POV Mara)
In all my years serving the royal family, I'd learned a few critical truths about palace life: firstly, nothing good ever followed the phrase, "Come quickly," and secondly, whenever Elira remained calm during a crisis, it meant I was about to panic enough for both of us.
Today, unfortunately, was a prime example of both rules.
The summons had arrived like a dagger thrust directly into our comfortable afternoon. One minute, Elira and I had been quietly discussing the bizarre drama unfolding at the academy complete with shadowy guards and twitchy professors—and the next, a messenger had burst through the doors, eyes wide and face pale, thrusting an elegant scroll at me stamped with the unmistakable seal of Queen Sylvithra.
"Urgent summons from the palace!" he gasped, already halfway to collapsing from exertion or fear, or possibly both. I took pity and shoved a chair toward him.
