Before my hand had even returned to my side, the door flew open. No one was standing behind it, and I looked around in confusion for a moment before peering into the room. The mage sat at a desk in the far corner, hunched over a sheaf of paper. I cleared my throat.
“My lady, may I enter?”
She did not answer, but she turned around. For a moment, I thought that the ink stains on her cheeks were part of her mage marks before I realized that she’d been crying. Her eyes were dry, but still red-rimmed, and she’d clearly gotten ink on her face while reaching up to wipe away tears.
I stepped forward, hesitantly. She did not look like a murderer. She looked like she was grieving, with her chapped lips and slightly shaking hands. She wore all black, which only made her skin look paler.
“I’m sorr
