The silence that followed my suggestion stretched like a taut bowstring. Father's grey eyes—so similar to the ones I now wore—narrowed to slits. Lucius shifted his weight, golden brows drawing together in that particular way that meant he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't understand.
Perfect. Keep looking confused, brother. I'm counting on it.
Lord Blackwood, however, tilted his head with what might have been amusement. The man was a political predator, and predators recognized useful tools when they saw them. "An interesting proposal, young Leone. You believe your... familiarity with the staff might prove beneficial?"
The pause before 'familiarity' carried enough weight to crush a lesser man. Blackwood knew exactly what kind of reputation the original Kaelen had cultivated with the servants. The kind that involved petty cruelties and casual abuse of power.
I hunched my shoulders further, letting my voice take on that wheedling, desperate quality that made people want to look away. "I just thought... maybe I could notice if someone was acting nervous? Or strange? I've been trying to... to be better about paying attention to people instead of just..."
I trailed off, wringing my hands like a guilty child. The performance was so pathetic that even Lady Vivienne looked uncomfortable.
Good. Discomfort breeds dismissal. And dismissal is exactly what I need.
"The boy has a point," came a new voice from the doorway, rich with that particular brand of noble confidence that could silence a room. Leo von Valerius stepped into the hall like he belonged there, his sapphire eyes taking in the assembled nobles with the casual authority of someone who'd never doubted his own importance.
Of course you're here, Golden Boy. Can't resist inserting yourself into every drama, can you?
Leo's presence transformed the entire dynamic. Suddenly, Father stood straighter, Lucius smoothed his already perfect hair, and Lady Vivienne's smile turned genuinely warm instead of merely social. Even Blackwood's posture shifted, acknowledging the heir to the kingdom's most powerful ducal house.
"Young Master Valerius," Father's voice carried a note of surprise. "I wasn't aware you were visiting our estate."
"I was passing through on my way to the academy and thought I'd pay my respects," Leo replied, though his eyes were fixed on me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "I couldn't help but overhear your discussion. A theft of such magnitude requires thorough investigation."
Translation: I smelled drama and came running like a moth to flame. Nothing feeds a protagonist's ego quite like playing the noble hero.
Grundy stepped forward, his thin face creased with what he probably thought looked like humble concern. The man's nervous energy radiated from him like heat from a forge, his pale hands clasping and unclasping at his sides.
"Indeed, my lord. Though I confess, I'm somewhat concerned about involving young Master Kaelen in such a serious matter. The servants might feel... intimidated by noble presence during the search."
Oh, you slippery bastard. You don't want me there because you're afraid I might notice something. Or someone.
I made my voice even smaller, more uncertain. "I... I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Maybe I should just stay here?"
"Nonsense," Leo declared, and I had to bite back a smile at how perfectly he was playing into my hands. "If young Kaelen believes he can assist, then assist he should. Justice requires all available resources."
Thank you, Leo. Your predictable need to sound heroic just gave me exactly what I needed.
Blackwood nodded slowly, his calculating gaze moving between Leo and myself. "Very well. Though I confess, I'm curious about this sudden... civic responsibility from the Leone family's youngest son."
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Father's jaw worked silently, Lucius looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor, and Lady Vivienne's fan snapped open with unnecessary force.
They're all wondering the same thing. What game is the family embarrassment playing now?
I let my face crumple slightly, as if the comment had struck a nerve. "I... I know I haven't been... that I've made mistakes. But maybe this is a chance to do something right for once?"
The tremor in my voice was genuine, though not for the reasons they assumed. I was trembling with the knowledge of what was about to unfold, with the weight of holding an innocent girl's life in my incompetent hands.
Leo's expression softened fractionally. "Redemption begins with small steps," he said, and I could practically hear the inspirational music swelling in the background of his internal monologue.
God, you really can't help yourself, can you? Every moment is a chance to deliver profound wisdom to the masses.
"Then it's settled," Blackwood announced. "We shall proceed to the servants' quarters. Grundy, lead the way."
The steward's smile looked like it had been carved with a rusty knife. "Of course, my lord. I believe we should start with the kitchen staff quarters, as they would have had the most opportunity during the festival preparations."
And there it is. The opening move in your little chess game.
We formed a procession through the manor's corridors—Blackwood and Father leading, followed by Leo and Lucius engaged in quiet conversation, Lady Vivienne gliding behind them like a silk-wrapped dagger, and finally myself, trailing along like a lost puppy. Grundy moved ahead to "prepare" the areas we'd be searching.
More like making sure everything is in place for the grand reveal.
The servants' wing felt different from the noble areas of the house. The corridors were narrower, the walls bare stone instead of tapestried wood, and the air carried the mingled scents of soap, cooking, and honest labor. Several staff members pressed themselves against the walls as we passed, their eyes downcast in the universal gesture of people hoping to become invisible.
I caught sight of Lyra near the kitchen entrance, her dark hair neatly braided and her simple brown dress spotless despite her work. She was perhaps eighteen, with the kind of quiet competence that made her invaluable to the kitchen staff. Her hands were steady as she kneaded bread dough, but I could see the tension in her shoulders when she glanced up at our approaching group.
She knows something's wrong. Servants always know when the nobles are hunting.
Grundy appeared from around a corner, slightly out of breath and carrying a copper tray laden with cleaning supplies. The bottle of floor polish gleamed in the lamplight, its contents sloshing gently as he walked.
Perfect timing. Almost like he was making sure everything was in place.
"The quarters are prepared for inspection, my lord," he announced, setting the tray on a nearby table. "I've asked the staff to remain available should you need to question anyone."
I positioned myself near the tray, close enough to seem helpful but not so close as to draw attention. The bottle of cleaning fluid was within easy reach, its cork slightly loose from recent handling.
Now for the delicate part. One chance to plant the seed.
Thomas Hartwell chose that moment to round the corner, his arms full of freshly laundered linens. He was a young man with ambitions beyond his station, the kind who noticed everything and forgot nothing. More importantly, he was the kind who harbored quiet resentments about being passed over for promotion.
Perfect. The exact weapon I need.
As Thomas approached, I reached for the tray with the exaggerated clumsiness that had become my trademark. My elbow caught the bottle just right, sending it tumbling to the stone floor with a sharp crack. The pungent smell of cleaning fluid filled the air as the liquid spread across the stones.
"Oh! Oh no!" I exclaimed, dropping to my knees and fumbling uselessly with the broken glass. "I'm so sorry! I'm such a clumsy fool!"
Thomas immediately knelt to help, his trained servant's instincts overriding any personal feelings about assisting the family's least favorite son. As he gathered the larger pieces of glass, I made sure my voice carried just enough to reach the nearby servants.
"This smell is dreadful," I complained, wrinkling my nose theatrically. "It's almost as sharp as that cheap spirit Steward Grundy drinks when he thinks no one's watching. Gives me such headaches."
The words tumbled out in a perfect imitation of an entitled brat's thoughtless complaint. But I watched Thomas's hands still fractionally as he processed what I'd said. His eyes flicked toward Grundy, then back to the mess, and I saw the exact moment the seed took root in his mind.
There you go, Thomas. A nice little detail about your superior's habits. The kind of detail that might explain certain... financial discrepancies.
"Here, let me help with that," Lyra's voice came from behind me, soft and concerned. She knelt beside us with a rag and dustpan, her movements economical and sure.
Up close, I could see the worry lines around her eyes, the way her hands trembled slightly as she worked. She knew she was in danger, even if she didn't understand why.
"Thank you," I mumbled, scrambling to my feet and backing away from the mess. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful..."
Grundy hurried over. "No harm done, young master. These things happen."
But his gaze lingered on Thomas for just a moment too long, and I saw the footman notice that look. The seed was planted, watered, and already beginning to sprout.
Phase one complete. Now let's see how well you handle having your own people start asking uncomfortable questions.
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