* * *
Seated at opposite ends of Roy’s desk, which he had cleared of its clutter of manuscripts and inkwells and other research paraphernalia, Roy and Percival gawked at the envelope before them with breathless anticipation. The upper left corner was damp and leaving faint tracks on the table, the lower right creased from the indentations left behind by the Citadel emissary’s thumb and forefinger.
Everything had fallen deathly quiet and still, as though the world were encased in amber. Roy waited for the library to recognize the letter and the advent of whatever development its arrival implied, for the wind to stir through his hair. But the air was so stale, so cold. He tried to steady his breathing and, when that did not work, to force himself to retrieve the envelope and open it. But he couldn’t move.
“Whowasthat, darling?” Percival asked. He had not taken his eyes off the letter since he’d put it on Roy’s desk.
Roy shook his head absently but somehow found the strength to reply, “She must have been sent by the Governor. Perhaps he’s... he’s preoccupied or—”
“She wastrembling, Roy,” Percival said, exasperated, “and you know damn well it wasn’t from the cold. Did you see her eyes? There was fear there. True fear.”
Roy scrambled for a rational explanation, but nothing sounded right in his head. “Maybe the Governordidassign her to some duty, but she disobeyed his orders.” Something came to him. “She could be a scholar in hiding.”
Percival shook his head this time, either disoriented or not completely convinced. “Who could this other woman she mentioned be, then?” He paused, ruminating. “‘I hope her words read all right,’ is what I think she said.”
A confusion of speculations swirled through Roy’s head, but as he observed the envelope again, he realized that when you came down to it, there was no point in guessing. This was to be his and Percival’s first contact with the world outside the Orphic Basilica’s walls, aside from the Governor and his Droves, in over two months. In this moment, it didn’t matter who the sender of the letter was. It might as well be Dimestra or the emissary’s wife or the Governor’s seamstress.
What was important here was that this person could become their correspondent, a crystal ball Roy and Percival could use to inspect the goings-on of Northgard.
“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Roy said. He removed his hands, which were shaking with trepidation, from his lap, then picked up the envelope, tore open the flap, and removed the contents.
Inside of the envelope were four sheets of parchment. The first had a note on it, which began withRead first. But the next three werefilled with delicate, slanted handwriting. He recognized the penmanship immediately. He had helped improve it, had looked over the shoulder of the writer every time, much to her constant annoyance, and pointed out even the smallest slipups.
Roy pressed the back of his hand over his mouth, stifling a sob. “Briar.”
Percival, noticeably more intrigued, stood up from his wing-backed chair and dragged it over next to Roy, who shuffled aside and slid the letter over so Percival could better see it. “Your sister?”
Roy nodded.
Percival proceeded to read the letter, his eyes wide, as though hardly believing what he was seeing.
Read first:
Apologies if I gave either of you a fright.
I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Tessa Ardwell, the professor for Introduction to Governorship at Rasileus Academy. But primarily, I’m a dedicated old-world enthusiast. Roy: when Briar got in contact with me through Irene, who you’ll learn about in your sister’s letter shortly, she told me about your investigation. I readily agreed to supply you with information pertinent to your cause.
Communication will be tricky, to say the least. Briar, Irene, and I have enlisted several scholars in hiding to assist us with gathering and reporting intel. I would have informed you sooner, but the storm has disrupted the schedule of all our plans. I ask you to forgive me.
Before you read on, a due reminder: Do not forget yourself nor your worth. This city is spiraling rapidly out of control, but not out ofyourcontrol. That seems clear to me, now more than ever. You will learn this for yourself when you read Briar’s letter.
I do not know when we will write to you next, but hopefully soon. It may be every second day or so. Until then, do not tarry. Keep your head down, your mind firm, and your distractions limited.
Tessa
His hands shaking, Roy moved on to Briar’s letter. He looked at Percival, who appeared enraptured, and then read it aloud.
Roy,
I’m so sorry that it had to come to this. I know this is a terrible risk I’m taking, that the consequences are dire, but I wouldn’t be writing to you if it wasn’t important. Please forgive me.
I miss you horribly, Roy. I do hope you’re not losing your mind, all alone in the library. It’s dreadful here without you. Granted, it wasn’t so great before, but now I have begun to feel trapped, like I’ve been buried alive. If it weren’t for the maids and butlers roaming the manor like phantoms, I would probably start wondering if I’m in Hell. Maybe I am. There is nobody to talk to, aside from the correspondents whose details I found under the loose board beneath your bed. Sometimes I think about reading the books you’ve stowed away, but I suppose that would only make matters worse.
That brings me to why I’m writing to you. I cannot believe that I’m about to put these words on paper, that I’m about to set in stone what I could hardly comprehend with my own eyes, but I fear if I don’t do it now, in this short window of time I have, it’ll never get done.
The Matron, through the Governor’s orders, has sent a Drove to guard me. But this doesn’t feel like guarding, Roy. There is something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with this man.
Roy sat back, a feeling of unease settling over him, and clasped a hand over his pounding heart.
