She folded the letter carefully along its original creases. Then sat with it in her hands.
Delia was watching her. "Bad news?"
"No." Verity folded the letter carefully along its original creases. "Good news."
She looked at the paper in her hands. At the burgundy wax fragments still clinging to the edges.
"The position I've been working toward for nine years just opened," she said. "It's mine if I go back now."
Grukash shifted his weight. "I should—" He gestured vaguely toward the door. "Border duty."
"Thank you for bringing this." Verity lifted the letter. "I appreciate it."
He nodded once and retreated with Torgun, their footsteps fading up the stairs. The archive settled back into its familiar quiet.
Delia had not moved. "Nine years," she said. "That's a long time to want something."
"Yes."
"And now you have it."
"Yes."
Delia looked at her for a moment without speaking. Then: "Are you all right?"
"Of course." Verity's hands found the papers on her desk and began straightening them. Alignment. Order. "It's good news."
"You said that."
"I should tell Targesh." She was already reaching for her quill, already looking at the open journal page. Somewhere to put her eyes. "He'll need to know about the timeline. For arrangements."
"Verity."
"I should go now, actually. Before the evening meal." She stood. The letter was still in her hands. "I'll come find you tomorrow," she said. "We'll talk more."
Delia watched her go without trying to stop her.
Chapter 26
She found him in the council chamber.
He was alone, standing at the map table with his back to the door. The late afternoon light fell through the high windows and caught the edges of his shoulders, the gray threading through his hair at the temples. He turned when he heard her enter, and she noted the way his face softened.
"Verity." He held out his hand. "I've missed you."
"It's been four hours." She crossed to him and took it anyway.
"You came back and went straight to work."
"I wanted to check on the archives. See what state I'd left things in."
His eyes moved over her. "You haven't bathed."
"I was going to—"
"You smell like horse."
"Targesh."
