Ariella didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was afraid—though fear certainly curled like cold smoke in the back of her mind—but because her thoughts refused to be silenced.
The burned ledger. The warning in the letter. The faceless figure in Room 314.
And Cassian Vale.
The way he'd looked at her in the corridor—disappointment mixed with something deeper. Something unreadable.
She sat by the window until dawn, dagger in hand, eyes fixed on the horizon. When the first rays of light touched the rooftops of the palace, she still hadn't blinked away the image of the serpent seal or the voice whispering "The true story hasn't started yet."
By midmorning, she was summoned.
The king requested her presence.
Ariella stood at the edge of the grand audience chamber, dressed in a navy gown—simple but elegant. She needed to be forgettable. Too much attention would only paint a bigger target on her back.
Thalia walked beside her, fingers twitching at her side.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
"No," Ariella said. "But I need answers. And I won't find them hiding."
The doors opened with a low groan.
Inside, King Aldred sat on his throne, his crown casting a gold reflection onto his lined face. Beside him stood Prince Leander, arms folded, and next to him, Cassian—expression unreadable, hands clasped behind his back.
Ariella stepped forward and curtsied. "Your Majesty."
King Aldred's voice boomed across the chamber. "Lady Ariella. You made quite the impression at the ball."
"I wasn't aware I had," she said evenly.
"You danced with the prince," the king said, eyes narrowing. "And with Cassian Vale. Two of the most watched men in this court. People talk."
"Let them," she replied. "Talk is all they're good at."
The king's lips twitched upward—either amused or annoyed. She couldn't tell.
"I've called you here for clarity," he said. "Cassian claims you may be of use to the realm."
Ariella's stomach tensed. He what?
Cassian stepped forward. "Lady Ariella displayed remarkable instinct and composure under pressure. I believe she could assist in our internal assessments. We're investigating certain… irregularities in the royal accounts."
Ariella shot him a sharp look. Why would he say that in front of Leander?
The prince's expression darkened slightly. "Is that so?"
Cassian continued, calm and confident. "With her noble background and connections, she may be able to access circles I cannot. We both know the court has grown… tangled."
The king gave a slow nod. "And you trust her?"
A long pause. Then Cassian said, "No. But I trust what she wants."
Ariella kept her face neutral. What does he think I want? Vengeance? Power? The truth?
"Very well," the king said. "Lady Ariella, you'll be granted restricted clearance to court records and estate holdings. Under supervision, of course."
"Of course," Ariella said, biting back the thousand questions behind her teeth.
"Dismissed," the king said. "Except you, Cassian. Stay."
Ariella turned to leave. As she passed Leander, he leaned in slightly.
"Be careful," he murmured. "Court favors turn faster than blades."
She didn't stop walking.
—
An hour later, Ariella stood in the northern wing, a folder of old estate records in hand, and absolutely no idea why Cassian had vouched for her.
She found him in the palace library, standing by the tall windows, leafing through a crimson-bound journal.
"You set me up," she said flatly.
Cassian didn't look at her. "I gave you a rope. Whether it becomes a lifeline or a noose depends on how you use it."
"I didn't ask for access," she said. "And you know I can't investigate anything with Leander breathing down my neck."
"Then don't investigate," he said. "Act like you're doing what they expect. Play the court. And while they watch your left hand, use your right to find what matters."
She stared at him. "Why help me?"
Now he looked at her. "Because you have nothing left to lose. And people like that either die quickly… or change everything."
"I'm not your pawn."
"No," he said. "But you might be your father's daughter."
Her heart froze.
"Careful," she said. "That's a dangerous thing to say."
"Not if it's true."
He closed the journal and handed it to her. "You should read page seventy-three. And start asking yourself why your name was ever erased from the line of succession."
Before she could reply, he was gone again.
Like he always is.
Ariella opened the book. Page seventy-three held a single entry:
April 12th — Shipment rerouted under direct order from House V—. Expenses recorded under Estate 114B. Ledger shows ghost signatures matching the old Ministry seal. Arielle was right. Someone is feeding off the crown. If she dies, this trail dies with her.
The handwriting wasn't Cassian's.
But it was someone who had known her.
Arielle. Not a typo. A name. Hers. Before she died.
She closed the book and shoved it into her coat.
There were too many pieces now. A conspiracy in the court. A burned ledger. A hidden past. And Cassian, always watching, always waiting.
Later that evening, she returned to her chambers and locked the door.
Thalia was waiting.
"Well?"
"I'm being watched," Ariella said, pulling off her gloves. "By everyone."
"Then we watch back."
Ariella hesitated, then took out the crimson journal and handed it over.
Thalia read in silence, then looked up sharply. "Estate 114B. That's the abandoned eastern villa. The one that went dark during the plague."
"No record of who owns it now," Ariella said. "But someone used it to reroute money."
"You think it's still active?"
"There's only one way to find out."
—
That night, under a moonless sky, Ariella and Thalia slipped out of the palace through a servant's gate.
The city was quieter than usual. Tense. As if the people could feel a storm approaching.
The eastern villa lay just beyond the old wall—a sprawling, vine-covered ruin left to rot after the last wave of the plague decimated half the court's eastern staff.
They reached the edge of the property and ducked behind a crumbling statue.
Thalia whispered, "We're being followed."
Ariella didn't move. "How many?"
"One. Light-footed. Probably a scout."
Ariella drew her dagger. "Then let's make them feel watched too."
She stepped into the garden path, making just enough noise to be heard, then quickly ducked behind an overgrown hedge.
The scout appeared moments later.
But it wasn't a guard.
It was a girl—young, maybe seventeen, dressed in courier black. She carried a satchel, and her eyes darted wildly around the garden.
Ariella moved fast.
She grabbed the girl from behind, hand over her mouth. "Scream and I'll slit your throat."
The girl froze.
Thalia stepped out, blade drawn.
"Who sent you?" Ariella hissed.
The girl whimpered.
Thalia reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded paper.
Ariella let her go.
The courier stumbled back and bolted into the night.
Ariella unfolded the message.
It wasn't a letter.
It was a sketch.
Of her face.
And below it, written in sharp red ink:
Subject: Arielle Valenhart. Status: Reemerged. Active.
Bounty reactivated. Authorization: House R.