If there was a god of underestimated women, she was watching Blair Drakencrest tonight and taking notes.
Blair reached into her cloak, pulled out a sealed envelope, and set it on the table beside the others.
"Forgot about this one."
Kael's eyes moved to it. Then to Blair. "Where did that come from?"
"Marek Navarre. He was holding it in the hall when he knocked himself out. I confiscated it."
Kael leaned forward, eyes on the envelope. Then his gaze lifted to Blair. Something shifted in his focus, a recalculation, not about the letter.
"Tell me how he fell unconscious again. You keep glossing over that."
The question was aimed at the room, but his eyes were on Blair, and the aim was too steady to be casual.
