The mana contract flared between them.
Runes crawled across the parchment, glowing faintly before settling into permanence. Freya felt the binding snap into place. The feeling of a mana contract was something not unfamiliar to her, as she'd initiated many throughout life, but somehow the sensation felt weird every time.
The Hare stepped back, then reached up.
"Great. Looks like everything went well."
His hands moved to the ceramic mask.
He pulled it off.
Freara's breath stopped.
Ronan Ashbourne.
She stared.
The black-haired Ashbourne heir stood before her, expression neutral, eyes calm. Not mocking. Not threatening.
Just… watching.
Freya's mind raced backward through fragmented memories.
She'd met Ronan before.
Many times, actually.
Ballroom gatherings after tedious noble functions where children were shuffled into side rooms while adults conducted business.
