Evelyn
The letter arrived just after sunset.
I was elbow-deep in tinctures and gauze when one of the messengers handed it to me. The seal was already cracked before he handed it to me. He noticed my arched, questioning brow and flushed, embarrassed.
“We had to vet it first for poison. It’s from the rogue camp,” he said.
He quickly hurried off after that, leaving me alone with the damning piece of parchment. How could something that contained news so heavy fit so lightly in my palm?
I pulled the folded parchment from the envelope and laid it flat.
So this was Jesse’s handwriting. His scrawl was tight, slanted, and unmistakably direct.
“Evelyn, I’ve reviewed your proposal. Let’s talk. Face to face. Tomorrow at dusk. Come alone. –Jesse”
There were no pleasantries or poetic flouris
