That made Ashwing's head lift from where he was coiled nearby, eyes flickering with interest. But Lindarion didn't ask anything else. He held out a hand.
The girl passed him the scroll case without a word.
It wasn't sealed with wax. Just wrapped in a deep green ribbon. Familiar fabric. Embroidered faintly with old Sunblade script.
His chest tightened.
Lindarion walked a few paces toward the edge of camp before opening it, away from the eyes that were always watching now.
The scroll inside was folded once, written in a deliberate, firm hand. No wasted words. No flourishes.
He knew it before reading the first line.
His father.
—
Lindarion,
I am alive. I was pulled from the estate at the last moment. I am currently recovering under the care of someone I owe a great deal to.
His name is Vaelion Silverleaf.
Yes, that one.
You may think it odd, but I do not. We all pick our moments to act. His was the right one.
