Strategically chosen for its rural setting at the far end of a vast wilderness, Gates Manor had been Conner’s home for the past twelve years. Built to mirror the grandness of English-style manors, Gates Manor stood four stories tall and had three wings. The stone structure stood majestically on a large, well-groomed estate hidden away by acres of forest all around.

Unlike all of the other places Conner had been raised in and or visited, Gates Manor remained untouched by modern technology and concurrent decorations. Each time Conner came home, it was as if he were walking into the past. It was a standing monument of an earlier time. A time when history wasn’t just written, but painted, and weaved. Depictions of such a time filled the manor, both in art and weaponry. Seclusion gave the small family the secrecy they needed to do their work and strengthen their Zeerian magical gifts.

The car beams flashed onto the front of the house as it rounded the last curve beyond the front gate. Conner pulled up to the front doors of the home and turned off the motor. The front door to the house swung open and a frail elderly man wearing a butler’s livery shuffled toward the car. The car door rose, and Conner exited.

“Good evening, Master Conner.”

“Hey, George.” George was a Zeerian house elf. When on duty he used an enchantment to change his outward appearance to look human. Things like this kept the family secret a little safer should any unexpected guests arrive.

“You seem to be missing a shirt, sir. Does that have anything to do with the ‘situation’ Finn was talking about when he called earlier?” George asked while looking him up and down.

“I don’t normally disrobe myself for any old reason,” Conner teased while closing the door to the Maserati before walking toward the house.

“Of course not, sir. Mrs. Applecot has been instructed to get a bath ready for you and set out fresh clothes. Will that be all, sir?”

“It’s after midnight, George. Why would I need fresh clothes?” he asked as they entered the grand foyer.

The old butler’s thick eyebrows rose with suspicion. “An unexpected guest arrived shortly after you and Finn left for the party. Your father has been keeping her occupied with pleasantries and such but she’s growing restless. She insisted that you and Finn be present for what she has to say.”

“Why? Who is she?”

“I think it would be best if you found out on your own, sir.

Conner raised a quizzical brow, but replied, “Tell my father that I’m home and I’ll be down shortly,” Conner requested as he began ascending the staircase.

“Certainly, sir.”

When he reached his room, Mrs. Applecot was just exiting his bathroom. “Oh!” she jumped. “You startled me. Good evening, Master Conner,” the motherly housekeeper greeted with a curtsy. Mrs. Applecot was the closest thing to a mother Conner had ever had, but the middleaged employee managed to keep a reasonable boundary line in their relationship over the years. She was also the only non-magic person at Gates Manner. Mrs. Applecot came from a long line of house keepers, ladies maids, and chamber maids. Many of which had served magic wielding families.

“Hi, Maggie.”

“I’ve drawn you a bath and laid out some clean clothes for you,” she said straightening the freshly ironed linen laying on the bed.

“I see that. Thank you.” Conner sat on the back of the sofa and began untying his shoelaces. “So, what do you know of this surprise guest?”

The chambermaid pinched her lips together while holding out her hand to take Conner’s shoes. “I’m not sure I should say.”

“Why is everyone being so secretive?”

“Sometimes it’s best to trust your own first impressions of someone. I merely don’t wish to sway you one way or another.”

“That bad, huh?” The corner of his mouth curled. “You do seem a bit nervous.”

Maggie cocked her head. “I’m not nervous. I’m simply keeping busy.” Conner gave her an accusing look while handing her his shoes. “Finn called just before leaving the party to explain he’d be home late,” she said, quickly changing the subject. She stepped away to put the shoes in the cabinet.

“That was before the incident took place. I spoke with him on my way home and he was already heading back from the city.”

“That’s good,” she nodded. “I guess when George asked what had happened, Finn didn’t reveal much,” she fluffed the pillows on the bed. “Which usually means one or both of you said or did something that caused trouble…” Her tone was kind but her raised brow meant she didn’t approve.

“If removing someone from an abusive situation is a crime then I’m guilty, but I had no intention of fighting tonight or any other time. I can usually bribe these kinds of guys to leave.”

“Just be careful. One day your well intentions will result in a real catastrophe. The world isn’t as good as we’d like it to be,” she patted his arm. “I’ll be back later to turn down your bed,” she added while exiting the room.

The shower knobs squeaked as Conner turned the water on. A couple of initial bursts of icy water shot out of the shower head until the water pressure built up. As he sat on the old cushioned chair beside the doorway to take off his socks he ran his thumb across the raised skin on his right ankle. It was a crescent moon-shaped scar he didn’t ever recall receiving—not to mention the only scar he had. Conner’s senses heightened briefly at the touch of the old wound, and he suddenly had an idea of who their guest might be. If it was the woman he was thinking it could be, Conner wasn’t at all sure how their first meeting would go, or if she even knew anything of him. As far as Conner knew, only the King knew anything about him, but if that was the case, why would she insist he and Finn be a part of the meeting?

Conner descended the stairs, freshly washed and dressed in pressed clothes. The parlor door opened, and his father stepped out, his face marked with concern as he closed the door behind him.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” Conner asked, his voice tinged with worry.

The sound of his son’s voice pulled John from his deep thoughts. “Oh, good, you’re home,” he said, meeting Conner at the foot of the stairs.

“I asked George to inform you that I’d arrived.”

John offered a sympathetic look. “He must have forgotten.” The old house elf had served the family faithfully for over fifty years, but his short-term memory was rapidly declining, even though he remained adept at performing his daily tasks. “Is Finn home as well?”

“He took a woman home but should be back any time now.”

“Good.” John squeezed his son’s shoulder. “We have a guest who requires both your attendance.”

“So I’ve heard. Who is it?” Conner asked, curiosity flickering in his tone.

John glanced toward the parlor door, nervously tugging at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. “It’s a messenger from Zeer.”

“A Zeerian?” Conner mused aloud. “We haven’t had any visitors from Zeer in a couple of years. Is something wrong?”

“Conner—” John began, but the front door swung open, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Finn stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He froze when he noticed the tense expressions on John and Conner’s faces. “Did I interrupt something?” he asked cautiously.

“You’re just in time, Finn. You need to hear this as well,” John replied.

“I don’t like the sound of that…” Finn muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“Both of you, follow me into the parlor to meet our guest,” John instructed, turning and leading the way.

“What’s this all about?” Finn mumbled under his breath as they followed their elder.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Conner replied evenly.

John closed the door softly behind the young men as they stepped into the parlor. At the far end of the room stood a striking young woman, her presence commanding attention. She wore a sleek, flowing tunic that brushed the tops of her bare feet, its simplicity elevated by an ornate gold belt draped low over her hips. A matching choker, crafted with intricate detail, encircled the base of her graceful neck. Her light blond hair was styled with precision, tightly braided at the sides to form a bold faux-hawk, while the rest cascaded freely in soft, natural waves—a seamless blend of sophistication and edge.

Her piercing dark blue eyes, framed with charcoal shading, locked on the two men as they entered, exuding a cool confidence. Conner didn’t recognize her, but her attire and regal bearing left no doubt—she was Zeerian. He took in her poised stance, impressed but puzzled.

Finn, however, froze mid-step. The air between him and the woman seemed to thicken with unspoken history. Surprise flickered across his face, followed quickly by discomfort. He shifted uneasily, his jaw tightening as memories of their last, ill-fated encounter resurfaced.

“Aurelia?” he finally said, his voice strained with a mix of longing and bitterness.