Moments later,

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The messenger arrived at dusk, under a flag of truce, escorted blindfolded all the way from the border outpost to the great hall of the Blackwood stronghold. He was trembling so hard he could barely stand, his hands bound before him, his face pale with the kind of fear that does not fade easily.

Two guards flanked him as he stopped before the high table. Aria sat where she always sat - level with her council, not above them - Malphas at her right hand, Leo and Gula standing guard by the doors, Aquarius reviewing ciphered dispatches nearby.

“Speak,” Aria said, her voice calm. “Who sent you?...