Dorian’s POV

The message arrived at a time I would later on resent for its ordinariness, I was reviewing inventory tallies in the western hall, a list i had memorized well enough to notice the discrepancies without squinting when the runner appeared at the threshold.

“Hartmann,” he said. “They sent word.”

That alone was enough to turn my mood sour, I set the ledge Mr aside aligning it with others. “We are not taking messages from Hartmann,” I replied not looking at him.

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