Ugh.I press my fingertips into my eyes again. The room is so silent it hurts. I’m always alone, but right now, this solitude seems to have claws. I’m pressing on my eyeballs so hard that starbursts flare in my darkened vision.
“My lord?”
I startle so roughly I nearly fall out of bed. My arm knocks a bottleoff my side table, and it crashes to the floor, shattering. The sound of glass skittering over the tile echoes against the walls, making my head pound immediately.
A footman stands in the doorway, unbothered.
This kind of morning is not what anyone on my staff would calluncommon.
“Breakfast,” I say roughly.
“Yes, my lord.” He pauses. “I’ll send a maid to tidy the mess.”
Tidy.As if I’ve absently left out a pair of trousers instead of scattering shards of glass everywhere.
Whatever. They’re paid for discretion, so I don’t mind if they extend it tome.
A scullery maid arrives with a broom and dustpan, followed by another servant bearing a platter of poached eggs and flaky biscuits lined with jam.
I gesture to the table in the corner, then throw back my blankets. Cautious of the broken glass, I make my way across the room, grateful for the distraction. But as I pick at the food, I can’t help but think of Callyn again. We met in her bakery, and I was charmed by her independence as swiftly as I was charmed by herfood. I don’t think I ever told her that.
Maybe I should have.
The thought comes unbidden— and unwelcome.
That whole time, she had magic. She hadmagic, and she hid it.
The same kind of magic that killed my family. The same kind of magic that killedherfamily. I don’t know how she could— I don’t know how— I don’t know why she would—
I slam the fork down, and this time I nearly break the plate. I push it away from me. My heart is pounding, and I don’t know if it’s anger or fear.
Anger feels more worthy, but I’m worried it’s the latter. I think of my dream, and for a flicker of time, I imagine Callyn controlling thosecreatures, and I shudder. Betrayal lodges in my heart like a hot coal trapped behind the grate of the hearth.
I feel like such a fool. Her power surely comes from that pendant she wears around her neck. All this time, and I believed it was a wardagainstmagic— not the other way around.
Another footman appears in my doorway. “Master Martyyn has delivered several messages this morning, my lord. He stated that you may wish to select the fabrics personally.”
I look up in surprise. Martyyn is my personal secretary, and to anyone outside my House, he’s responsible for organizing any missives regarding the shipment of fabrics and textiles.
He also secretly handles any private messages arriving from the Truthbringers.
You may wish to select the fabrics personallyis a code we’ve used before, indicating he’s received such a message.
I haven’t heard that phrase in months. After the king and queen were attacked, the Truthbringers were fractured, splitting into factions: those who supported her position on the throne.
And those who didn’t.
I hold out a hand to the servant. “I’ll review them now.”
Once he’s gone, I waste no time. The letter on the top of the pile is cream- colored parchment, sealed with black-and-green wax, which is reliable because it’s impossible to remelt without losing the telltale swirls that reveal whether or not a message has been tampered with. The wax has been stamped with the Truthbringer seal.
I lift my knife and slice it open.
Lord Alek,
We’re pleased to report that Father has gone home for the summer season. Unfortunately, recent events have led many ofus to wonder whether the estate would be better off if Mother were gone, too. After gathering our best silver, I have discovered a way to ensure success for our family, and it is only a matter of time before everyone is safe. There are those who may be opposed, but I have always felt that the end justifies the means. Don’t you agree?
As always, your support would be appreciated.
