The invitation burned a hole in my desk.
Not literally. Unfortunately, that would've been easier to deal with.
No, it just sat there—innocent, cryptic, and utterly inconvenient. The red wax seal, the serpentine insignia, the smug elegance of the black ink... Someone was trying way too hard to be mysterious.
I stared at it like it might suddenly grow legs and walk off.
It didn't.
"Come alone," it said.
Because that's always how great evenings start—cryptic notes from unknown sources asking you to show up solo in a city where assassination was considered just another form of professional rivalry.
I sighed, leaned back, and glared at the ceiling. Maybe if I stared long enough, the gods of this world would send me a different plotline.
No such luck.
I didn't tell my students I was leaving.
