The Starlight Heir

His Imperial Majesty, King Zarek Acharia, requests your presence as his esteemed guest.

The gold powder dusting the black scroll sticks to my clammy fingers like a layer of fine desert sand. The paper is thick and smooth to the touch, the lettering within inlaid with what looks like real gold and infused with some mysterious, honeyed fragrance. I rub the parchment between my thumb and forefinger, delighting in the distinctive quality of the stock.

Sands, but it’s gorgeous.

I glance around my cramped forge, half expecting to see a royal messenger standing at attention, but the elegant invitation from the Imperial House had had no escort. It’d been sitting on my anvil, quite visible and jarringly out of place, when I’d returned from a quick trip to the inn for a pitcher of water. My name is engraved on the outside in an elaborate sweeping script: Miss Suraya Saab, House of Aldebaran.