Roland's mockery faded almost imperceptibly, swallowed whole by the quiet weight of the room.
Slowly, his calloused fingers reached out and picked up the parchment. His sharp eyes skimmed across the first paragraph, then dropped to the second.
The lingering amusement vanished entirely from his weathered features. His grip tightened ever so slightly around the edges, the dry paper whispering under the sudden pressure of his knuckles.
"...Interesting," he rasped into the stillness.
Olivia watched him quietly, her pose relaxed, her dark eyes devoid of any tremor. "I knew you would recognize the handwriting."
Roland slowly raised his gaze, the candlelight reflecting off his icy pupils. "Where did you steal this?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does."
"Not to me."
His sharp, lethal gaze remained pinned upon her, searching for the slightest hitch in her breath. "You expect me to believe Cedric handed this over willingly?"
