XLVIII
Amal handed Edwil a draft of a letter.
The elven man read it, grabbed a pen and made some corrections.
“It’s decent, Mrs. Governor,” Edwil said. “It should be enough to get the message across.”
“Why can’t I address the city personally?” she asked.
“It would give away your location,” Edwil said. “We were able to secure this location, but a transmission would reveal us. Your safety is paramount right now.”
Amal glanced around her office, which seemed like a jail cell. She couldn’t quite get used to it, with its stale air, fading brick walls and its single, solitary light.
“What news do you have for me?” she asked.
“Our reports confirm that a protection barrier is now protecting the city,” Edwil said.
“That’s good, right?”
“No, m’am. We have reason to believe that Fenroot may
