The numbers didn't lie. Lila sat at her father's desk, surrounded by towering stacks of parchment, ledgers, and ink-smeared receipts. The once-polished surface of the desk looked dull in the morning light, worn from years of use and disappointment. Her eyes burned from hours of reading and re-reading the records, hoping foolishly that somewhere among the faded columns of expenses and debts, a miracle would appear.
It didn't.
The Hart estate was bankrupt.
Not just in the "things are tight" sense. No. Truly, hopelessly, tangled in vinegar and vultures bankrupt. Between the back taxes owed to the crown, the unpaid maintenance on the eastern vineyards, and the interest on loans borrowed by her father in a last-ditch effort to sustain the illusion of nobility, the estate was hanging by a single frayed thread.
And now she was the one holding it.
"Still at it?" her father's weary voice came from the doorway.
Lila looked up. Lord Cedric Hart, once a man of charming confidence and lighthearted wit, now wore exhaustion like a cloak. He leaned heavily on his cane as he entered the room, his gray-streaked hair unkempt and his eyes ringed with sleeplessness.
"I thought if I could find the original bond agreement with House Fellwater, we could argue the interest clause," Lila said. "But it's not here. It must have been destroyed."
Cedric chuckled weakly. "Or fed to rats in a tavern somewhere. I wasn't... entirely lucid when I signed that one."
Lila's lips twitched. "You're lucky I'm not poisoning your tea."
"I'm lucky you still serve me tea at all."
They shared a quiet moment. It wasn't often they could joke like this anymore, not since her mother's death and the gradual collapse of everything they'd once had. The estate had faded into disrepair, the staff reduced to a skeleton crew of loyal old servants who could no longer be paid properly, and the villagers nearby looked at their once-proud manor like it was a ghost.
But Lila wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.
"I've been thinking," she said. "We still have the hunting lodge by Lake Ellan. I could sell it."
"That won't cover the smallest of the loans."
"But it's something."
Cedric hesitated. "You shouldn't be the one worrying about this, Lila."
"I'm not a child anymore."
"No," he said, with the faintest sadness. "You're not."
She turned back to the ledger. "If I can buy us six months, I could…"
A knock interrupted them.
A servant poked her head in, red-faced and breathless. "My lady… there's a guest at the gate. A nobleman."
Lila frowned. "Who?"
The servant swallowed. "The Duke of Blackwood."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Cedric sat up straighter. "He's what?!"
Adrian Blackwood arrived with no fanfare.
No banners. No retinue. Just a black horse, a travel cloak dusted with road grime, and a letter from the King's office granting him a temporary leave of absence from court affairs.
Lila watched him dismount from her window, her heart inexplicably thudding.
He had written her only once since she left Blackwood Manor two weeks ago a cryptic note folded into a book about agricultural yields during magical droughts. It had said nothing of importance, and yet the tone had lingered in her mind like perfume.
She hadn't expected to see him again so soon.
She certainly hadn't expected him to show up at her crumbling family estate, as though this were normal.
When Adrian entered the drawing room, the temperature seemed to shift. Cedric, to his credit, rose and bowed, stiff but dignified.
"Your Grace," he greeted.
"Lord Hart," Adrian returned smoothly. "Lady Lila."
Lila met his eyes. She saw something unspoken there—calculating, yes, but... something else too. Regret, maybe. Or guilt.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, skipping courtesy.
Adrian did not flinch. "I need a place to stay. Temporarily. Court has become… difficult. And I thought perhaps it was time I understood your situation better."
"Understood," Lila echoed, her voice tight. "As in, observe the ruin up close?"
His lips twitched faintly. "As in, assist."
Cedric's eyebrows climbed. "Assist?"
Adrian's gaze never left Lila's. "I've recently come into some... discretionary influence with the King's economic council. I can provide debt relief. In exchange, I'd like your permission to stay here for a time and explore certain family archives I believe might intersect with your own lineage."
Lila stared at him, stunned. "You want access to our ruins?"
"I want to protect you."
She looked away sharply. "I don't need your protection."
"No," Adrian said softly. "But you might need a partner."
By sunset, Adrian's room had been prepared one of the only ones that hadn't developed a leak or rot in the walls and the manor was humming with the first signs of life in weeks. Lila stood in the hallway outside the west wing, staring at the door to his chambers.
Everything was changing too quickly.
She didn't know if she wanted Adrian here. Part of her was furious, another part intrigued, and a third—deeper, quieter part was simply tired of carrying this alone.
She turned to leave—only to find her father at the end of the hall, holding a letter.
"This arrived," he said. "From Arondale. Marked with Lady Merrow's seal."
Lila opened it and read quickly. Her fingers clenched the parchment.
"What does it say?" Cedric asked.
"It's an invitation," she said, voice dry. "To an informal gathering at her estate. She's heard of my 'recent reappearance' in noble circles and wants to extend a friendly welcome."
Cedric blinked. "Isn't she the one who…?"
"Yes," Lila said coldly. "She's the one who tried to ruin your appeal to the crown three years ago."
Her eyes flicked to Adrian's door.
He hadn't mentioned Evelyne. Not once.
But Lila had read enough court intrigue novels and lived through enough backhanded comments to recognize what this was.
Lady Merrow didn't extend friendly invitations.
She was preparing to strike.