Rowan brought me the message himself. He held it out without having opened it the seal was intact, the wax pressed with the Vael crest, unbroken. It’s addressed to you,’ he said simply.
I took it. I turned it over. My name was not on it just the description. The silver-eyed female of Ashcroft blood. As if he did not yet know my name, or had chosen not to use it, or was making a point about what he knew and what he was choosing to withhold.
I broke the seal and read it. The handwriting was precise and controlled, every letter formed with the exactness of someone for whom imprecision was not a category they operated in. It said:
I am aware of your location. I am aware of what you carry. I will arrive at Ashdale in three days. I ask that you remain.
It was signed: J. Vael.
I read it twic
