"What is this bullshit?" Tiberius snapped, his lip curling into a sneer as he tossed the parchment down onto the desk, though he did not quite let go of it.
His fingers still clutched its edge as though unsure whether to fling it into the fire or keep it close. "A fucking drunk in a piss-reeking tavern could come up with something better."
He leaned back, exhaling sharply through his nose, but his eyes stayed locked on the paper, betraying the curiosity gnawing beneath his scorn.
Of course, not all of it was horseshit. Some parts, if he dared admit, felt disturbingly coherent. That was what unsettled him most.
Across the desk, Lord Julian gave the faintest shake of his head. His one good eye regarded the boy with the weariness of a tutor correcting a dull pupil.
"I thought I had taught you better in these years," the spymaster murmured, his voice a rasp of reproach. "I am… appalled."
