Sicarius stood before her. He held out a sealed envelope. “A boy came to the dock with a message for you.” Ugh, she wasn’t supposed to be getting mail here. That meant people knew where she was and possibly what she was doing. “What is it?” she asked. “I would not presume to read your private correspondences.” His tone was as warm as the ice under the dock. Maybe Books was right. Maybe she should apologize. It wouldn’t hurt her, though it seemed a betrayal to Wholt’s spirit. Would it even mean anything to Sicarius? He never said “please” or “thank you” or seemed
