Gregory knew exactly what his instructions were—orders he was expected to follow to the letter, without hesitation or deviation.
He was to reach Rymora, convince her to secretly return with him, and together they were to decide what tale she would present to Lady Aria. Nothing more, nothing less.
With his shoulders drawn high and his form hidden beneath a dark, travel-worn cloak, Gregory moved steadily toward the castle gates. The hood shadowed his face, obscuring his features from curious eyes. In his pocket lay a pouch heavy with coin—money meant not for comfort, but for silence, for information, and for obedience. Gold had always been a language guards understood fluently.
He intended to use it to learn where Rymora was being kept.
