“Not here,” I say. “We should go to the northern moors. I can handle the cold. I’m already dressed in two pairs of pants from our travel to Oakton.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring and self-deprecating grin.

She studies me for another moment, then shakes her head. “No, it’s too cold, even for me. Why can you not tell me here? It’s secure and private, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I exchange glances with Silene, which clearly agitates Laurel even more. “Just tell me,” she orders. Silene steps toward her, placing her hand on Laurel’s shoulder.

“I think you should go to the greenhouse with Thorne. Fionn and I will stay here,” Silene says softly. Laurel nods. Before I can prepare myself, I’m squeezed with a familiar pressure, and Laurel and I appear in the greenhouse, still set up with poufs from our Winter Solstice morning.

“Tell me what’s going on before I force you to,” Laurel practically growls, shoulders tense and eyes searching. I pull the letter from my pocket, clutching it tightly.

“When we got to the manor in Oakton, we had some time alone in Krantz’s office. I searched his things. We found several items of note, but this…” I hold up the paper. “This was too important to leave there. We knew you would need to see it with your own eyes.” I hand her the damning letter, heart aching. She snatches it from my hands, her eyes ablaze with annoyance and worry, then looks down. I watch as her expression slowly shifts from the haughty frustration of an impatient Queen to the sorrowful grief of a betrayed friend. Her eyes move furiously across the page, repeatedly, always stopping at the end for several beats before restarting. With each reread, she slumps in on herself, shoulders dropping and back hunching. “The handwriting…” I say slowly. “We weren’t sure…” I trail off, unable to say it aloud.

“It’s hers,” she says with the practiced coolness I’ve come to expect.

“Laurel,” I say softly, taking a step toward her.

She holds up a hand. “Don’t. I need to stay in control right now.” I halt mid-stride. Her eyes are predatory, resembling the giant feline she keeps as a pet. “Nemesia warned me of a mole on the Council of Advisors before she left. Someone passing information to the rebels. It’s why I haven’t told them about working with you to infiltrate the rebels.” The confession, though something we’d already guessed thanks to Silene’s intelligent observation, still shocks me. Not that she has a mole, but that she’s actually revealing it to me. She finally trusts me enough to share. The situation dampens the satisfaction I feel.

“There haven’t been any leaks since she left, have there?” I ask her slowly.