I hope this letter finds you well. Felicitations on your upcoming Jubilee. I am sure it will be a party to remember.
I will start by asking that you do not try and find out who I am, for my identity isn’t essential. What is essential is the safety of a girl very dear to my heart.
Though I have the means to take care of her, her father has forbidden me from making contact and intervening in their lives because of our diverging views on the world. He worries I will indoctrinate his child yet allows scoundrels with no morals near her.
The girl I write to you about is young and bright, and deserves a future not steeped in militancy.
You must be wondering: why is this person writing to me? You will understand upon laying eyes on the child.
You’ll find her in a Voshnan Tavern by the name of the Oloho Samov.
My heart stops. Starts. Stops. Its rhythm grows so erratic that even massaging my breastbone doesn’t assuage its tempo.
If you decide to meet her, please do not send General Melchanko to collect her. And please do not breathe a word of this letter to anyone, or my days will be numbered.
Respectfully yours,
A concerned and loyal subject.
I look at the date—three days before the Jubilee—and then I reread the letter from top to bottom, trying to glean which “concerned and loyal subject” could’ve sent such a missive. From the person’s mastery of Glacin grammar and the comment about having means, I suspect it must be a wealthy, educated Faerie, possibly a pure-blood. One who dares venture into the human district, so almost certainly a man.
Unless Svyato went tohim? Innkeepers need supplies. Perhaps they met at the market?
Young and bright. Deserves a future not steeped in militancy.
Does my anonymous correspondent mean that the girl has already been indoctrinated?
I know the person has urged me not to search for them, but this was before Svyato died and Mestyla went missing. What if my niece is with them now?
I sit at my desk, creasing the sheet of vellum. If only I’d seen it before the carnival, before Salom charged into town, before Svyato was found dead and Mestyla vanished and Tiana walked intoVolkov & Sons.
The harsh slant of the person’s penmanship taunts me, for I think I’ve already seen it. But where?
Who are you?
With a frustrated sigh, I stash the letter inside my desk drawer and stand, then head toward the secret passageway just as Isla bursts through it, all rosy-cheeks and windswept hair. If I weren’t so certain of her affection for me, I’d worry her color had been acquired from a tumble between the sheets.
“I had to use a sigil to penetrate into the vestibule,” she says.
“I feared as much.”
“I’m glad. It means your quarters are still secure. How’s Ilya?”
“Vengeful.” I curl my arms around her, towing her into my body, and glut myself on the scent of frost and fresh pine that clings to her skin after all her flights. “There was another terror attack. One he witnessed.”
She jerks back. “Holy shit, Konstantin. Is he hurt?”
“No. Just shaken.”
She scrutinizes my face like my brother scrutinized the map earlier.
I palm her cheek that is cold to the touch. “Now might be a good time to get out of Glace and visit your family.”
She snorts. “Mestyla’s on the loose.”
So is my sister…“True, but the kingdom is under such high alert, she wouldn’t try anything. And even if she did, I have this extremely practical piece of jewelry.”
“Yes, but Izolda doesn’t.”
