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“These are letters,” he breathed, sifting through the parchment.

Across the table, Corayne grinned. “It was Charlie’s idea. He’s been working on them since we left Ibal.”

Charlie beamed with her, his pale face filling with a little more color. “And Corayne helped immensely,” he said, a proud teacher. “She’s an excellent translator, and she’s better with seals than she lets on. Imp.”

Corayne gingerly took back the stack of letters, careful not to crumple them. “If the King of Madrence can call on the Ward to fight, we can too.”

Andry almost laughed, eyeing the many seals from across Allward. Each of them false, the signatures forged. “These are not letters from you.”

“Every kingdom in the realm needs to get ready for war. The earlier the better.” She inspected the pages again, testing the ink.

Many languages passed beneath her careful fingers, as did the colored seals and imprints. The golden dragon of Ibal. Rhashir’s elephant. The white eagle of Kasa. Calidon’s shaggy unicorn. Ahmsare’s sun. The wolf of Trec. Even the stag of Iona. Summonses from all over the Ward, calling to the other kingdoms for aid, false letters holding terrible truths. Erida’s conquest, Taristan’s dark endeavor. The Spindles torn, What Waits looming behind the veils of the realm. It was Charlie’s skill and Corayne’s savvy on full display.

Andry puffed out an impressed breath. “You think this will work?”

“It can’t hurt to try.” Corayne shrugged, trying to look indifferent. But a small, satisfied smile played on her lips. “If even one letter succeeds, it’ll be more than worth it.”

“Truth dressed as a lie,” Charlie said, proud.

“We’ll send them out with couriers before the march,” Corayne added. “There’s no sign of Oscovko yet, but we can have Dom break his door down if the sun gets any higher in the sky.” She gestured with her spoon, pointing out a familiar, blocky silhouette in the nearest passage.

The immortal prince stood sentinel, watching the way to Oscovko’s apartments with the focus of a hawk.

“Doesn’t matter when we leave—with our luck we’ll end up marching through a blizzard,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Can’t wait to freeze to death in a border ditch.”

Sorasa appeared from another passage, clad in her old brown leathers again. Her fur collar was pulled tightly up her neck, hiding her tattooed throat. She glared as she took up her own post at the window, leaning against the glass to face their table.

“Pessimism becomes you, Charlie.”

The fugitive gave the assassin a winning smile.

“You know, I hear that quite a bit,” he said dryly.

“Who’d you have after me?” Andry muttered, nudging Corayne’s shoulder. Even though talking to her was easy now, as natural as breathing, he still felt a jolt in his stomach. “For the bet.”

“Sorasa,” Corayne answered around another mouthful. “She’s on the prowl. I don’t think she likes being shut up in a castle.”

The assassin frowned, eyeing the hall. “You’re absolutely right.Too much opportunity. And if Dom doesn’t drag Oscovko out of bed, I will.”

Corayne smirked, all mischief. “I doubt the prince would mind.”

In the passage, Dom glowered, but Sorasa only shook her head, exasperated.

“Whatever gets things moving,” she grumbled, helping herself to a hunk of bread. “Has anyone seen Sigil?”

“Not since she took some lord and lady to her chambers last night,” Charlie said. He finally gave up on his stew, shoving the bowl away.

Sorasa took it without blinking. “Only two? She’s getting slow in her old age.”

Warmth spread across Andry’s cheeks and he lowered his head, trying to hide his discomfort. He spooned at his stew, eyes downcast, but Charlie snickered at him anyway.

“Save your embarrassment, Squire,” he chuckled. “Certainly the knights of Ascal were no better.”

“Not by much,” Andry mumbled. He’d served Sir Grandel long enough to know which courtiers shared his bed and when to make himself scarce.

“Is that right?” Corayne prodded, her dark brows rising. “First gossip, now beddings? I thought you knights and squires were meant to be so well-behaved.”

“I—no—well—” Andry stumbled, flustered. Indeed, many of the squires did have their dalliances, both well hidden and not. None were allowed, but there were always ways around such things.