The bells of Targovi?te tolled a mournful tune, their echoes carried on the winter wind. Nauthizia sat alone in the hall of the castle, her hands trembling as she read the missive again. The parchment felt heavy, though its words were few.


    The Sultan requires your son for his service.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She let the letter fall to the table, her breath shallow. Across from her, the chair once occupied by her husband, Constantine, stood empty. His absence felt sharper now, though it had been months since he fell in battle, defending Wallachia from Ottoman encroachment. In life, Constantine had been her shield, her stalwart defender. In his death, she had forged a new protector: her twin brother, Nauthiz.