Ysra was still holding the trial sheet when Kade asked for it back.
“Dunne,” said Kade. “The Duke’s copy.”
He stood at the end of the lodging table with his bread in one hand and his coat buttoned to the chin. He had not eaten the bread. He had only torn a corner off and held it, the way he held his title, to make sure everyone could see he had something.
Ysra did not look up. She turned the page over, then back again, and ran one finger down the margin.
“The Duke may have it,” she said, “when the Ministry does.”
“The Ministry has it already. The Ministry wrote it.”
“Then the Ministry will not miss it for a morning.” Ysra set the paper flat on the table, under her palm. “I am checking a stamp, Duke. You may check it with me, if you like.”
Kade’s mouth went hard. He looked at the paper under her hand as though it had done something to him personally.
