“Everything. Everyone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Caswell will be there,” she said. “So will Linden. Aprocedural witness will write everything down and say almost nothing. If you answer too much, she will write that. If you answer too little, she will write that too.”
“Efficient.”
“Very.”
“And Caspian?”
Cosima was quiet long enough that her silence became an answer.
“Caspian’s father approves of the interrogation,” she said. “Caspian himself will likely be difficult.”
“Difficult how?”
“He’ll try to stand with you, where everyone can see it.”
“You know that because he always does?”
“I know that because he should have learned not to. But he’s a better man than that.”
Then she stood.
No goodbye. No good luck. Cosima Verraine did not waste courage on unnecessary words.
I watched her go, then looked down at my untouched plate. Rev would have told me to eat if she were here, but I didn’t have the stomach for it.
After that, there was nothing to do but return to Room 114 and wait.
The basin lit late just as Cosima had warned me it would.
Silver-white light moved under the water, bright enough tothrow the rim’s shadow against the wall.
Words formed across the surface.
Astra Verita. Interrogation. Third floor, south wing. Immediate attendance.
For a moment, I didn’t move.
Delphine had walked when they summoned her too. Across the hall. Through the west door. Small and pale and already disappearing before she was gone.
I put on my coat with my mother’s wren pinned to it.
My fingers shook badly enough that the clasp took three tries.
The stairs to the third floor felt longer than they should have. Every landing gave me a chance to turn back, and every landing reminded me there was nowhere to go. By the time I reached the south wing, my mouth tasted like metal from biting my cheek.
The corridor narrowed before it reached the door, as if the building wanted those who approached delivered in single file. No portraits. No sconces. No convenient window to pretend to look out of. Only a dark wood door, a black iron latch, and the clean scratch marks of a lock used often.
Caspian Ashford stood beside the door.
He had arrived before me, but the door hadn’t opened to him.
His eyes met mine, but he didn’t say a word.
I stood beside him without speaking either because I had no idea what to say.
