Page 43 of Zenith Tower

The impulse came before I remembered the locked corridor between us. I pictured her reading beside the false window, one thumb resting against the crossed-out line. She would ask what I wanted the letter to mean. I could already hear the question.

I folded it along its original creases and set it on the table.

The writing box in the drawer contained two sheets of paper, a narrow pen, and a stoppered bottle of ink. My new restrictions had not extended to correspondence. The Ashford name had protected that much even here.

I sat down and began.

Father—

I stopped there.

At the estate, I had addressed him asSiruntil I was oldenough to understand that other sons did not. After that, I usedFatherbecause it was expected and never because the word felt easy.

I left it.

I received your letter. If the inquiry is to matter, do not let them answer only for my treatment. There are four of us under review, and there are residents here whose families were told nothing at all.

Ask for the complete record of Delphine Moreau. She was removed from Zenith Hall after her Mark was declared a Dimming. She is alive in Wing C. Readers damaged her Mark during what they called a recovery attempt. The request to move her to the infirmary afterward was denied.

I paused. The image of Delphine leaning between Astra and the healer had stayed with me: too thin, wrist wrapped, still finding enough breath to warn Astra not to disappear.

I dipped the pen again.

Ask for every order associated with Sadie Corwin’s removal from Wing C. Her file closed the following morning. No transfer entry has been found, and no destination, escort, or receiving facility was recorded. Do not accept “resolved” as an answer.

Request an independent healer for Kieran Marsh. His decline has accelerated since we arrived, and the Tower continues to treat his condition as evidence before it treats him as a patient.

The pen hovered above the page.

My father could have used his inquiry to demand my release and leave the others unnamed. A month ago, I might have mistaken that for love. Now the thought made my stomach turn.

If the Council offers to release me alone, refuse.

I read the sentence twice. Then I added:

Do not spend the Ashford name on me alone.

I signedCaspian, sanded the wet ink, and folded the letter.

There was no wax in the writing box. I had no crest to press into it even if there had been. I wrote my father’s name across the outside and knocked once against the door.

The steward returned after several minutes.

“This goes by the same courier,” I said.

He held out his hand. “Outgoing correspondence is inspected.”

“Not correspondence carried under the Ashford seal.”

“Your reply has no seal.”

I met his eyes. “The letter that arrived under it invited an answer. If the Council prefers to explain to Magnus Ashford why his private courier was interrupted, ask them to put that explanation in writing.”

The steward considered the folded page, then took it.

“I can promise only that it reaches the courier.”

“That will do.”