Page 55 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

I turned, studying his profile. “Then what is it?”

He finally moved, reaching beneath his armor and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. It was creased from being carried close to the body, edges softened by motion and sweat. He handed it to me without a word.

I took it, and my breath caught the moment I saw the wax seal.

The Order of Thorn.

I opened the letter, careful not to tear the brittle page. My eyes scanned the neat script, emotionless, clinical. And then I found it. The directive.

I pressed my lips together tightly.

“This is the order to assassinate your brother,” I said.

Zander nodded, expression carved from stone. “Your father signed the parchment. But this… this suggests my father placed the contract.”

I stared at the letter, my chest aching. “Cyran always insists on protecting the client’s identity. The name of the requester would only be known to him.”

Zander’s jaw tensed. “So it could have been my father.”

I nodded slowly, handing the paper back. “Only Cyran would know the truth. I’m sorry.”

Zander took the letter with careful fingers, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. They lingered, searching, maybe for something that would make it all feel less like betrayal carved into blood.

“My brother,” he said quietly. “Theron’s pressuring me to uphold the family image.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He blew out a breath and looked away, shoulders tight. “That we have to…” He trailed off, face hardening as his gaze fixed on something behind me. His whole posture shifted, tense, alert.

I followed his line of sight.

“What is it?” I asked.

His voice was colder than before. Flat.

“What ishedoing here?”

And when I turned?—

Remy was standing at the gates of the inn, cloak flaring in the wind.

And he was watching me.

Zander didn’t wait. He strode across the courtyard with clipped, purposeful steps, and I fell into pace beside him, the heat of his anger radiating off him like a storm waiting to break.

Remy stood just outside the inn gates, his cloak stirring gently in the coastal breeze, his expression infuriatingly calm, as if he’d been expecting this confrontation.

Zander didn’t bother with civility.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked, stopping just short of Remy’s boots.

Without a word, Remy reached into his satchel and handed over a folded letter, the seal already broken. Zander snatched it and read quickly, his expression souring with every line.

“You had my father assign you to Thrall Squad for this mission?”

Remy shrugged one shoulder, maddeningly casual. “It’s obvious you need help.”

Zander scoffed, crumpling the letter in his fist. “You think I can’t lead my squad through one assignment?”