SERA

The dress appeared on my bed the following afternoon.

I'd been in the library, combing through Ashford territorial records looking for any mention of the northern border operation — nothing yet, Kael had buried it deep, when Mrs. Harlow came to tell me that a package had been delivered to my room. No sender listed. No card. Just a garment box wrapped in tissue paper, sitting on my bed like a gift.

I opened it and my stomach dropped.

The dress was beautiful. Deep green, fitted through the ...