Seraphine's POV
Lysa waits four days before she says anything.
She is going to say something. That much has been clear since she found me at the north window with my palm on the glass, since she chose not to ask and filed it instead, and Lysa's files do not stay closed forever. They open when she has decided the cost of staying quiet has finally exceeded the cost of speaking. She makes that calculation the way some wolves breathe, and the particular quality of her silences this week, the beat too long at the end of every briefing, tells me she has nearly finished making it.
The evening of the fourth day, she chooses her moment.
We are in the study with the delegation list and the evidence files, the lamps lit against the early dark, two hours deep into the order of the archive document
