The reply came faster than expected.
By sunset, the hawk was back, a crimson ribbon tied to its leg. Her color.
The message was brief:
Come alone. South Wing observatory. Midnight.
I didn't hesitate.
The South Wing had long been sealed for renovation—an excuse that conveniently kept away prying eyes.
She was already there.
Leaned against the cold stone railing, hair tied back, cloak half-unfastened like always.
"Still alive, then," she said without turning.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm not. Just surprised you had the nerve to contact me."
"I didn't think you'd answer."
She turned. Eyes the color of stormlight.
"I thought you'd be finished after what happened," she said.
"Not yet."
A pause.
"What do you want, Elira?"
"Justice. Or something close enough to make them regret ignoring the truth."
She studied me for a long moment. Then—
"Tell me everything. From the beginning."