Priscilla remained silent for a long moment, listening to the distant, rhythmic ring of the morning bells. "I will call the ciphers," she said quietly.
Sylas reached for his heavy outer coat, lined with dark raven-pelt. "I need to speak with our spymasters before the midday court gathers."
"About Aurelia?"
"About everything." He slipped his coat over his shoulders, adjusting the heavy brass clasps across his chest with practiced ease.
"I want every single report that crossed the border from Virelia. I want every hushed account from the scullery maids who wiped the soot from the windows after the storm passed. I want every single word spoken by the Storm Lord after he stepped off that dais. I want to know who saw Aurelia when she was still a pale-cursed woman wrapped in veils, and who saw her when she walked back into the light."
