Blood ran across the marble floor like a thin, warm veil.
Lorelei wiped her blade with a black silk handkerchief. Her eyes didn't blink — not when the second assassin's body was dragged into a hidden cabinet behind the ballroom, and not when the diplomats, under Reiner and Ritter's orders, were distracted with wine and speeches.
She hadn't been hired to save Reiner. But the contract allowed improvisation — as long as the outcome favored the right interests.
— "You killed fast," Émile said, still holding his weapon.
— "I don't like waste."
— "Who gave the order?"
— "That depends on who's asking."
Lorelei turned, her mask still partially covering her face. The exposed side now revealed a scar — discreet but deep, running from temple to chin.
— "The Light Guard doesn't work with amateurs," she said. "This was personal. Someone within Reiner's circle wanted him dead."
Émile felt a chill.
— "And you know who?"
She smiled for the first time.
— "I think so. But it's too early to say out loud."
---
Paris – 10:47 PM
Claire held the portable radio as the last words of the transmission crackled through the static:
"...an attempted assassination during the masquerade in Versailles. Chancellor Reiner is unharmed, but two suspects are dead. Names have not been released. French police declined to comment."
Solène dropped a glass on the floor.
— "It's started."
Claire closed her eyes.
— "No. They missed."
Solène bent to pick up the grimoire.
— "If Reiner is alive, there's still time. But if someone within his own circle wants him dead..."
— "Then the Light Guard's plan is further along than we thought."
Claire tucked the reliquary into her coat.
— "We're going to Versailles."
— "Now?"
— "The Veil is already opening, Solène. And if Lorelei's involved... it's because someone called her in. And that someone doesn't just want blood. They want the symbol."
Solène took a deep breath.
— "And you think the key is with Reiner?"
Claire opened the door.
— "No. I think Reiner is the door. Whatever's behind it... we don't know yet."
On the street, Paris felt suspended in time.
But in the distance, near the Seine, an ancient fog had begun to rise.