It was out of place among the likely controlled chaos. It was expensive paper, soft to the touch, and sealed with an unmistakable bird in crimson wax. His name was written in her practiced penmanship. There was no question as to the hand that penned it.
The delivery had not been noted, neither by himself nor the attendants eager to prove themselves useful, hence it had probably been in the dark of night.
Whether he opened it immediately or let his curiosity stew, regardless of his personal feelings when he unfolded the paper, the message remained the same.
To my Darling Glenn,
I apologize for the effortless familiarity captured within my address, but I am not quite certain of your new title in Rasazan. I have, of course, distantly followed your path through life without my influence, but perhaps not as closely as I should have been. I assure you, my spies will see to this grave miscalculation. We will see if you can ferret out who they are. Another game between the two of us. We were always so eager to play them, weren't we? Perhaps that was the curious reasoning for my flight from Myrken; the only one clever enough to engage my restless mind had given in to despair at the lost love of his people.
I was mostly content to allow you to live your life unaccosted, but a recent failed proposal from a minor Lord brought you to mind again. He lamented that you and I had not been in contact in quite some time and wondered whether we were still engaged. His hands were rumored to wander where they were not desired and he had difficulty with understanding language when a Lady declined, so it was with great sadness that he and his head have sadly parted company in a nasty hunting accident. There was nary a dry eye in his village, I assure you. Though the women appeared to be paradoxically cheerful in response to the news.
Alas, my company moves on with their restlessly wandering mistress. Perhaps I will meander closer to Rasazan in the coming months. Though, given that I privately take my guidance from the Crown, that is uncertain at best.
I hope this correspondence finds you well. That may be difficult to believe, given how we left things. Whatever your feelings, our names are forevermore intertwined, made so by His Majesty's noble seal and the scratch of quill to contract. Neither of us, it seems, took steps to dissolve our long-ago arrangement. Wiser minds than mine might find some greater meaning behind that negligence. Logically, I suspect it is merely because it continues to benefit us both. Or perhaps it is because, in secret, we pine for the other like flowers wilting without rain. Matters of the heart were never my strong suit, much to the chagrin of anyone foolish enough to have expectations to the contrary. I do not take care to listen to my heart when my head makes considerably stronger points.
As I've said, our agreement continues to benefit me, A Lady of noble blood seeking to avoid her Ladylike duties, and thus, our lack of correspondence appears suspicious. If you've no mind to communicate, I accept those terms but will continue to send missives of my own even without response. At least one of us must keep up appearances, dear.
Yours,
Egris