Emily sat at Timothy's desk in his home office, staring at a blank piece of paper.
She'd been sitting here for twenty minutes, pen in hand, trying to figure out how to write this letter.
How do you contact a cousin you haven't spoken to in close to a year? A cousin who thinks you're dead? A cousin who's now engaged to your enemy?
Timothy entered with two cups of tea, setting one beside her. "Still struggling?"
"Yes," Emily admitted. "Every version I start sounds either too formal or too revealing. I need to reach Alexander, confirm whether he's an ally or if Victoria's turned him. But I can't risk this letter falling into the wrong hands."
"Then we code it," Timothy said, sitting across from her. "Write something that looks innocent to anyone who intercepts it, but Alexander will understand the real meaning."
