I did not sleep that night.
Not from cold—the Hearth was warm, a living heart—but from flames that burned within me. I was bursting to full capacity with names, with locations, with letters never written and things never said. My hand was cramped from writing until the candle burned nigh to a snuff, and yet, I’d hunted up fresh parchment.
The city did not sleep, either. I could feel it, a rumble underfoot, as if very streets were rolling over troubled thoughts.
I was already outside by then, with the sun bleeding across rooftops.
Fen intercepted me by the stairs to the lower courtyard, melting snow with each step she took. “Vivian. You should eat something.”
"I do."
“You said so yesterday.”
I looked at her, but her furrowing brow did not relent. She was no loyal fool, and I did resp
