"If we wait until Fall —" Alanna paused, looking up as a page appeared on the rampart. Numair stood to his full height, rolling up the scroll they had been studying. The ocean-breeze whipped around them as the page approached with downcast eyes. Bad news, perhaps.
"M'lady," he bowed, "letters for you." Just nerves, then.
"Thank you," Alanna took the small pile and waved him away. Numair interjected and the page stumbled, having been caught mid-escape.
"Has anything been received for me? Numair Salmalin," he elaborated, not sure if he had met this one.
"I don't believe so, sir." The boy shook his head, seeming unsure of how to address him, before taking his leave.
Numair sighed, leaning back against the wall and unraveling the scroll once more.
"She'll write."
"I know."