The note arrived with breakfast.
That was the first thing that unsettled me about it. Not its contents, those were perfectly civil, almost boringly so, but the timing. Seraphina knew I took my morning meal early, before the rest of the household had fully stirred, in the small side room off the east corridor where the light came in clean and the noise of the estate had not yet gathered itself into its daily roar. She knew, which meant she had been paying attention to my routines long before she ever placed that ledger on my desk. Long before she leaned across the table with night-blooming jasmine on her skin and asked me if I was brave enough to use it.
The note itself was a single line, written in elegant, unhurried script on paper that smelled faintly of her perfume.
*I trust the morning finds you well, Lord Damien. I look forward to our continued understanding.*
