It began with a laugh too sharp.
One of the bishop's aides spilled wine on a guard captain. He didn't apologize. The captain didn't smile.
Tension cracked under the weight of etiquette.
Reina's eyes darted. Just once.
"Now," Serina whispered.
We moved.
I slipped into the west corridor, where the servants moved crates of wine and conversation.
One door. Unmarked. Guarded by silence.
Inside: a ledger. Stamped with the Avelar crest. Recent. Real.
Gold movement. Seven accounts. All routed through the Shadow Court.
Outside, Serina distracted the bishop.
A misstep. A whisper. A rumor.
"Your grace," she said sweetly, "I believe someone's been watching your niece. Closely."
He turned, face pale.
"Who?"
"Perhaps someone from the east. With a fondness for flattery and bribes."
A single bead of sweat ran down his temple.
"You have my attention."