The Duke of Ravenhurst was the kind of man who wore a monocle not because he needed it, but because it made him look more expensive. His estate, a sprawling nightmare of marble and gold leaf, was my first official stop as the Principal Auditress.
"You can't be serious," the Duke blustered, his face turning a shade of purple that matched his velvet waistcoat. "You're auditing me? My family has funded the Crown since the First Age!"
"And yet," I said, gracefully stepping over his pet leopard as I entered his study, "according to the royal ledgers, you haven't paid a copper in 'Luxury Carriage Taxes' for three decades. Hans, start counting the chandeliers."
Hans pulled out a measuring tape and a clipboard. "Yes, Principal. Total crystal weight: excessive. Estimated tax evasion: staggering."
"This is an outrage!" Ravenhurst slammed his fist on a desk that probably cost more than a village. "I'll have your head for this, Lexen! You're just a disgraced Villainess playing with ink!"
I leaned over his desk, my amethyst eyes locking onto his. "I am the woman who just liquidated the Grand Chamberlain's entire offshore portfolio in forty-five minutes. If you want to keep your head—and this hideous desk—I suggest you stop shouting and start opening your private vaults."
I leaned back, smoothing my gloves. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to declare this entire estate a 'Total Loss' for the Crown. And you know what the King does with total losses? He burns them for the insurance money."
The "Administrative Fee"
Two hours later, Ravenhurst was sobbing into his cognac while Hans loaded three heavy iron chests onto our carriage.
"Technically," Hans whispered as we pulled away from the gates, "we only needed to collect two chests for the King's war fund."
"The third chest is for 'Disposal Costs', Hans," I said, patting the cold iron. "It's a very dangerous job, carrying this much gold. I need to compensate myself for the stress. Besides, I need to buy a boat. A very, very large boat."
A Sudden Obstacle
Our carriage suddenly lurched to a halt. I grabbed the handle to keep from sliding off the seat.
"Hans? Did we hit a peasant? I told you, the paperwork for that is a nightmare."
"No, Principal," Hans's voice sounded strained. "We've been blocked. By... a girl?"
I poked my head out of the window. Standing in the middle of the cobblestone street was a girl in a white dress that was far too clean for the Capital's slums. She had golden curls, big blue eyes, and a look of radiant, annoying innocence.
It was Princess Lilian. The "Heroine" of the original story. The one who was supposed to "save" Kaelen from my "evil influence."
"Lady Elara!" she cried, clasping her hands to her chest. "I heard you were taking money from the poor Duke! How could you be so cruel? He looked so sad!"
I stared at her for a long second. In the original novel, this girl's "pure heart" made everyone fall in love with her. In reality, she was a walking, talking budget deficit.
"Princess," I said, stepping out of the carriage. "The Duke isn't 'sad.' He's 'insolvent.' There's a difference."
"But money isn't everything!" Lilian insisted, her eyes welling with tears. "We should lead with love, not ledgers!"
"Love doesn't pay for the city guards, Lilian. And unless your 'pure heart' can be minted into coins, I suggest you move out of the way. I have a retirement plan to fund, and you're standing on my billable hours."