Versailles – November 11, 1937 – 02:17 AM
The rain had turned to mist by the time Claire and Solène reached the outskirts of Versailles. The Peugeot hummed like a phantom through the sleeping town, its headlights cutting ribbons into the fog. Neither woman spoke.
They didn't need to.
Claire's thoughts were louder than the engine: Camille's warning, the Rose's fracture, the cryptic message left in blood. Every thread now pointed to the same place — the palace, and the man it sheltered.
At the gates of the Orangerie, two French guards tried to stop them. Claire held up a badge — forged, elegant, just real enough. Solène said one word in Latin, and both guards blinked and waved them through, eyes slightly unfocused.
— "That spell won't last long," Solène warned.
— "We won't need long."
Inside the inner garden, Versailles glowed with unnatural calm. Gas lamps flickered, wet stones glistened, and above all, the great hall of mirrors watched in silence. Claire looked up at it — at its arrogance, its beauty, and its weight.
She stepped out of the car. The reliquary pulsed.
---
Elsewhere in the palace
Lorelei stood barefoot before the mirror in Reiner's private chamber, the floor scattered with droplets of wine-red wax and torn pages of a diplomatic ledger.
She traced a sigil on the glass with gloved fingers, her voice a whisper carried in another tongue.
Behind her, Reiner slept under a shallow sedative. Ritter sat slumped in a velvet chair, still breathing — barely.
From the other side of the mirror, something shimmered. Then, an answer.
"The key moves toward you," said the voice. Male. Cold. Inhuman.
— "I know," Lorelei replied.
— "You failed to kill him."
— "No. I positioned him." She turned slightly. "Claire is coming. Let her."
Silence.
Then:
"Will she give the key?"
Lorelei smiled.
— "No. But she'll give something better. The truth."
She walked to the desk, lit a cigarette with a shaking hand, and blew the smoke upward.
— "We don't need Reiner dead yet. We need him afraid."
---
In the garden below
Claire reached the side entrance to the west wing. The reliquary in her pocket stopped pulsing — for the first time in days.
She looked at Solène.
— "She's here."
Solène nodded.
— "So are we."
Above them, a curtain moved.
And behind it, Lorelei watched.