My pulse went stupid and erratic.
I picked up the paper.
The fold was narrow.
Caspian’s handwriting was controlled, but not easy. The first letter of each word pressed darker than the rest, as if starting had been the difficult part.
Astra,
The dress is Selene’s. The left sleeve is not.
Show Cosima before they fasten it.
C.
No apology. No promise. Just the part he had found and the thing I needed to do.
I sat down on the edge of the bed because my knees had become untrustworthy.
The silk rustled beside me though nothing had moved.
Caspian had touched it.
Or bribed someone near it.
Or broken some rule he had been raised to keep so I would know where to look before someone wrapped my mother’s dress around my wrist and called the fastening ceremonial.
My Mark answered his name before I said it.
Cool stone. Scorched sweetness. A pull so controlled it made the room feel less steady, not more.
“Don’t,” I told my wrist.
It didn’t listen.
I read the note again.
The left sleeve is not.
My mother’s dress ended before that bright band. Everything after it belonged to the Council.
I tucked Caspian’s note inside the lining of my coat, behind where I wore the brooch pin, where the fabric had already been pierced a dozen times. Then I closed the tissue over the dress and shut the box.
The brass clasps clicked.
I went to the basin.
It stayed dark.
“Helpful,” I said.
The water kept its secrets to itself if it had them.
So be it.
Caspian had told me who to show.
So I took the black box off the bed.
