Helsa wrote it at dawn.
We moved her at first light a small stone room just off the war room, one window set high in the wall, a heavy door that locked from the outside. Two warriors posted at the door. Senna seated across the table from her. Me at the wall behind Senna’s chair, where I could see everything.
A piece of parchment on the table. A quill. A pot of ink. Helsa’s own hand to hold them.
“You write what I tell you,” I said. “Word for word. No deviations. No signals hidden in your spacing or the curl of a letter. Senna will be watching for all of it. Is that clear.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“Begin.”
Helsa dipped the quill.
And wrote what I told her.
I’d spent most of the night building this letter in my head. No sleep just me at the tower window with the candle dark, turning each se
