Love letters

Curtis pressed his lips into a thin line and retracted his back from the wall. He slowly advanced in Ismael's direction, taking a seat on the other armchair near him. He quirked a brow at the book on the coffee table, bending over to pick it up.

"Do what you must," Curtis advised, as he opened the book and skimmed through it. "But just so you know, not everyone who does trade keeps the end of their bargain. They were those who are fair and then crooks. Aime is surely not the former — at least, not anymore."

Ismael furrowed his brows and glanced at the calm Curtis. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean by that is the literal meaning." Curtis shot the third prince a knowing look. "The seventh prince is a good piece to lose that easily. I won't keep feeding you answers since she trusted you and gave you the power you hold right now. It's all on you to use them at your own disposal."