Page 45 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

But just as I turned toward the exit, something else caught my eye.

A binder, thick with parchment.

I pulled it free and flipped it open, my pulse quickening.

Handwritten letters. Some sealed with wax, others mere loose pages stacked inside.

Orders. Requests. Reports.

Some of it was mundane—logistics about supply chains, movement of goods through the outer kingdoms. But others…

A letter discussing an “unforeseen delay” in troop reinforcements. The response was short, irritated, and simply read?—

If you do not hold the eastern border, I will personally see to it that your command is revoked.

An angry letter about the death of a warder. One that had been murdered in the outer kingdom of Prina.

A heavily redacted report about the loss of a scouting party. It mentioned an “unknown force” but failed to specify what they had encountered.

One letter stood out immediately.

There was no insignia marking which Order had sent it.

Strange.

I scanned the words, trying to make sense of them.

The council must not suspect. Keep the records hidden, and the assets in place. What we fight for is not what we once did. We must be prepared for the shift when it comes. Trust only those already within the fold.

I re-read it twice.

It didn’t say who the Order was corresponding with.

It didn’t say who wrote it.

Nothing identifiable.

I flipped through as many pages as I could, committing as much to memory as possible, before slipping the letters back into the binder and placing it exactly where I found it.

Then, I turned to leave. Exiting the vault and closing it quickly.

I stopped.

A voice drifted through the quiet of the castle corridors.

Not just any voice.

Zander.

I froze, pressing myself against the wall near the entrance of the vault, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

He wasn’t alone.

A second voice—softer, younger.

A little girl.

I inched forward, careful not to make a sound, sneaking toward the source of their conversation.