I know something is wrong before Sareth’s claws touch Kaelith.
The eastern signal tower is dark.
It should not be.
I left the relay station seventeen minutes ago with rain running down the back of my collar and a copy of its warning tucked beneath my coat. The original had already entered the relay system when I mounted. Even with Sareth pushing Slipstream hard enough to leave my teeth aching, the message should have beaten us here.
I feel her satisfaction through the bond as we descend.
Yes, you are very fast.
Her answering irritation suggests this is an inadequate description.
The terrace guards scatter before we land. I am out of the saddle before Sareth finishes folding her wings.
“Eastern relay?” I ask.
The duty officer looks at me blankly.
That is answer enough.
I hand him my copy. “Log the arrival time.”
“Veyna—”
“Now.”
He does.
I turn toward the tower.
Nothing.
Rain gathers on the stone beneath my boots while the officer breaks the seal behind me. I count without meaning to. Eighteen minutes. Nineteen.
At twenty-one, the relay bell finally sounds.
The clerk who comes down carries the same warning I delivered three minutes earlier.
He looks relieved.
I do not.
I take the relay copy from him and compare the seals. Same station. Same dispatch time. Same route authorization.
Then I notice the pressure mark beneath the wax.
A second routing stamp.
Almost erased.
Someone has opened the message path between the eastern station and Kaelith, held the warning long enough to inspect it, then sent it onward.
Three minutes.
Not enough time to stop the message.
More than enough time to read it.
Behind me, Sareth lowers her head until one gray-green eye is level with mine.
“I know,” I murmur.
The warning is not what frightens me anymore.
It is knowing that someone else received it first.