Glokta could hear her scared breathing as he settled himself in the remaining chair, leaned his cane against the scarred tabletop, and frowned into her face. “I am still wondering whether, in the next few days, I will receive that letter you spoke of. You know the one. The one you meant for Sult to read. The one that lays out the history of my self-indulgent little mercy to you. The one that you made sure will be sent to the Arch Lector… in the event of your death. Will it find its way onto my desk, now, do you suppose? A final irony.”
