They lifted Brinna onto a litter.
Her hand slipped free from the blanket as they carried her past Sabine. Limp. Pale. Too cold-looking.
Sabine reached for her but stopped before she touched.
Let them see nothing they could twist.
Let them record the calm bride while the machine reached for her throat.
The litter disappeared into the corridor.
Only then did Heskar turn toward the desk.
“What is that?”
Sabine followed his gaze.
A folded page lay half-hidden beneath her correspondence.
It had not been there before.
Lysa saw it at the same moment and inhaled sharply.
Heskar crossed to the desk and lifted the page with gloved fingers.
The wax seal had already been broken.
“Lady Sabine,” he said, “do you recognize this document?”
“No.”
He unfolded it.
His face did not change as he read, which made it worse.
Then he handed it to Trial Marshal Corvek, who had entered so quietly Sabine had not heard him come in.
Corvek was tall, severe, and dressed in the steel-gray formal uniform of trial authority. Not temple black. Not crown blue. A man of procedure. The sort who could condemn a person without hatred and sleep well because each line had been properly signed.
He read the page.
Then he looked at Sabine.
“You deny writing this?”
Sabine held out her hand.
Corvek gave it to her.
The handwriting almost resembled hers.
Almost.
A clerk who had copied her letters might believe it. A man who wanted to believe it would not question at all.
The words were precise enough to kill.
Lucien will remove me before final selection. Corvyr can be saved through private royal protection rather than the rite. The bond ensures his cooperation. I do not intend to complete the Trials under temple authority.
