Page 42 of Zenith Tower

The overturned cart had been righted. Caspian walked at my other side, close enough to take Delphine if my footing failed. The guards followed behind us.

At the infirmary junction, two more stewards waited beside a wheeled chair. Delphine refused it until the floor shifted beneath her and her knees buckled. Then she sat with her mouth pressed tight and let them cover her with a gray blanket.

“How long?” I asked Marrow.

“Her condition will be reviewed in two days. If she is strong enough, I will request a supervised visit.”

“Request?”

“The administrator may refuse.”

Delphine caught my hand before the stewards moved her away.

“You found me,” she said. “Try not to disappear before they let you come back.”

The dry warning sounded like her. My throat closed.

“I’ll do my best.”

They took her through the infirmary doors.

Marrow waited until they closed. “You and Ashford are being moved to separate rooms. Corridor access is suspended. Your reviews will resume when the administrator decides how to proceed.”

Caspian’s hand found mine.

We held on until the guards separated us at the next junction.

Caspian

My father’s letter arrived on the second morning of my confinement.

A steward passed it through the door without comment. The Ashford crest had been pressed into dark green wax, unbroken despite every checkpoint between the estate and my new room.

I turned the envelope over in my hands. My father had sent the cuffs for the formal in a box lined with velvet. He had sent this on ordinary paper.

The room held a narrow bed, a writing table, and a false window cut into the stone. Water-light rose through it from a channel below, pale enough that I had to sit close to read.

Caspian—

I have filed a formal inquiry into conditions at Zenith Tower. My Council seat and the Ashford family’s standing require them to accept it. They do not require the Council to answer quickly or honestly.

I remained silent at the formal when I should have spoken. This filing does not correct that. It is simply the first useful action availableto me, and I intend to pursue it whether or not it alters your opinion of me.

If there are specific questions that should be included, send them through the same courier.

—M.A.

I read the letter again.

My father’s handwriting had not changed. Every letter stood straight, evenly spaced, with no ink allowed to gather at the ends of words. Near the middle, however, he had crossed out a sentence hard enough to roughen the paper before writing the next one beneath it.

I held the page toward the water-light. The discarded words remained illegible.

Once, I would have spent hours trying to recover them. My father’s approval had always been scarce enough to make every hidden scrap of it feel valuable. But whatever he had chosen not to say mattered less than the filing already carrying his name through the Council.

He had acted without knowing whether it would work, something I had never seen him do.

I wanted to show the letter to Astra.