If the consuls of the White City didn’t write back … Three days, I told myself, ignoring the violent twisting of my stomach as I stared unseeingly into the dark. If we hadn't heard from them in three days, I would walk into Thysandra’s cell and make her talk, damn the costs and consequences, damn the sensation of filth spreading below my skin at the thought alone. Until that time, I would do whatever else I could and pray it was enough.
