The Tyrant's Law (Dagger and the Coin)

your correspondence to a Ceric Adom of Nijestae Town. It is a hamlet not far from my encampment, and Ceric Adom is a creature entirely within my service. Through him I may discreetly retrieve your letters.
I look forward to hearing what state your plans have evolved to and how I may aid them from here. Give my regards and my good faith to the like-minded patriots with whom you serve the interests of the throne. And be assured that I will do anything in my power to safeguard Prince Aster and the empire.
And I agree. Time may be short.
Your loyal friend
    “Ternigan hasn’t signed it,” Clara said, “as if the discussion of the state of the army were not identification enough.” She snorted her derision.
    Vincen had given the only chair in his little room to her, and sat instead on the edge of the bed. His hair was still unruly from the pillow. He scratched his cheek, fingernails against the roughness of his two-day beard.
    “He sounds like he’s agreed,” Vincen said.
    “Oh, he’s not so dim as that,” Clara said. “If he’s taken, he will claim that he was drawing the conspirators into the open so that Geder can destroy them before they act.”
    Vincen’s forehead furrowed.
    “He might actually be doing that. He might have sent word to the Lord Regent already. And the letter that we sent. If Ternigan is loyal to Palliako—”
    “Then no harm done,” Clara said. “Geder will have the conspiracy exposed from both sides, and while it may confuse him, he won’t know who we are, and he may very well distrust Mecilli and Ternigan just a bit because the question was raised and the players aren’t obvious. But, my dear, if you knew Ternigan, he’s loyal to whatever direction the wind is blowing. I have very high hopes for this.”
    “Still. It’s odd that he took so long to answer, isn’t it?”
    “I expect he was hoping things would progress without him. There’s nothing more charming than having all the heavy work done before you offer to lend a hand, don’t you think? Then you get all the goodwill of having offered without the bother of actually doing anything.”
    “I suppose that would be the most pleasant mix,” Vincen said with a chuckle. Clara dropped Ternigan’s letter onto the bed beside him and put her hand on his leg just above the knee. Vincen leaned close and kissed her.
    With practice, they had become better at it. At first, she had expected that all men would be identical to Dawson, and so discovering the ways that the little differences in the length of an arm or the angle of a jaw made the physical act of love different was actually something of a revelation. It seemed like every time she and Vincen lay down together, she would find that something else she had thought universal had in fact been an idiosyncrasy of her husband and herself. The way that Dawson’s feet would sometimes curl around her own, Vincen’s did not. The small shudder that had passed through Dawson when he reached his climax, Vincen didn’t show.
    She had thought that her mourning was done, and for the most part, it was. Exploring Vincen Coe, and more to the point, herself in the context of Vincen, didn’t leave her melancholy. Quite the opposite. But while she would never have said as much, she also felt she was coming better to know who Dawson had been by the contrast. And to learn more about him, to have that small new intimacy with her husband was a gift she hadn’t expected, and all the more precious for that.
    Sometime later, when she rose from the bed, she took a moment to retrieve Ternigan’s letter. The page had been bent at the corner, but was otherwise undamaged. Vincen pulled himself out of bed as well, stretching like a satisfied cat.
    “We’ll need to have this delivered to the Lord Regent in a way that can’t be followed back to us,” Clara said.
    “Mmm. Any thoughts on how you’d like that done?”
    “Well. Do you know any couriers that you particularly dislike?”
    “I can find something,” Vincen said, laughing low in his throat. “Just let me find my clothes.”
    “Don’t hurry,” she said, and then waved away his leer. “I only meant that I have some work still to do here. You may dress if you wish.”
    She turned up the lamp and took out her paper, ink, and pen. She held the pen in her left hand, which muddied her letters and made the script look unlike her own, yet still, she thought, passably legible.
Lord Regent Palliako
For reasons I cannot at present reveal, I am