(Daciana POV)
Ashina’s message lay in my hand like a living thing, wet with rain, red ink, and the cruelty she knew how to sharpen.
Nobody in the ruined feast hall spoke for several breaths, because even warriors understood when words had become a weapon.
I read the final line again, though every part of me hated giving her poison a second chance to join me.
“Ask Bardolph what his father did to her before she died.”
The words tried to make me look at Bardolph with new horror, but I had already learned that truth and manipulation could wear the same face.
Bardolph stood across from me with blood on his shirt, pain in his eyes, and a silence that told me the message had wounded him too.
“I do not know what she means,” he said, and his voice sounded rough enough to cut through his own
