"Two men. Two stories. Which one was true?"
The night's interrupted confession had followed Silver back to her tower room like a ghost that refused to be exorcised, replaying endlessly in her mind with the obsessive precision she usually reserved for analyzing failed skating routines. She'd barely slept, tossing restlessly in her narrow Yale-issued bed while the medieval stones seemed to press closer around her emotional turmoil, and when dawn finally crept through the diamond-paned windows, it brought no relief from the questions that had been circulating through her consciousness like vultures.
