The trader dropped the letter on the trough edge without a word and kept walking.
Kane picked it up. No name on the outside. Wax seal, plain, no crest.
"You know who sent that?" Joren asked, watching the trader disappear down the south road.
"No." Kane broke the seal.
The handwriting was small, cramped, written fast.
*Kane — Dorian knows you're alive. A rider from the patrol you hit reported back three days ago. He's pulling fighters from two garrisons to Vask Stronghold. This isn't a patrol anymore, it's a strike force. Lira pushed for it personally. She wants you dead, not exiled again. She was specific about that. Burn this. — B.H.*
Kane read it twice. Then he held it to the nearest fire pit until it curled black and fell apart.
"Well?" Joren said.
"Get Reeve. Get Ottilie. Get S
