Chapter 97: The Grand Duke Begins the Arrests Properly (3)
Of course. That woman again. The older version of Evelina. The charity patron. The soft smile. The muted rose gown. The thank you for saving Lady Celia. The House of Gentle Mercy tour.
How neat. How vile.
Lady Evelina swayed. The Empress caught her by the elbow before she could fall. A kind gesture. Useful too. The court saw it.
Excellent.
"Where is Lady Marielle now?" I asked.
No one answered. Which was also an answer.
"She was not invited?" Father asked.
Bernard shook his head. "Not to the restricted rehearsal."
"She wouldn’t need to attend," I said. "Not if the program was already in place."
The rehearsal master whispered, "She revised the script this morning."
Arthur looked at him. "What did you say?"
"She revised it," he repeated, voice shaking. "Lady Marielle sent the amended order before dawn. She said the Grand Duke’s revisions had been accepted but must be harmonized with sacred continuity. I didn’t know what it meant. I thought it was ceremonial language."
"How fortunate for you that stupidity is less severe than treason," I said.
He looked faint. "Still unpleasant," I added. He looked worse.
Good.
A shadow appeared beside Bernard, so smoothly that two nearby nobles stepped back with quiet horror. Sonomi shadows were excellent at reminding people that darkness was not empty merely because they failed to inspect it.
The shadow bowed. "Your Excellency. Message from the estate."
I accepted the folded note. Mother’s seal. The contents were brief.
Lady Marielle’s residence is empty. Staff dismissed before noon. A carriage left by the north lane during rehearsal. Destination uncertain. Fate sent a separate warning: someone is purchasing passage under Verdant papers.
I closed the note slowly. Abi’s eyes moved to the green cloaked observer. She lifted one brow. Not guilty. Interested. That was somehow more irritating.
"Verdant papers," I said.
The hall looked toward the gallery again. The observer’s smile thinned. "I dislike forged roads," she said.
"Do you?"
"Greatly."
"Then you may wish to be useful."
Her eyes brightened. "Careful, Grand Duke. The Verdant Court charges beautifully for usefulness."
"I am very rich."
This time she laughed, a soft sound, rain on leaves. The hall listened. Abi stared at her. My father looked between us once, then decided, wisely, to say nothing.
The Emperor looked as though he’d just realized his coronation crisis had grown foreign branches. How unfortunate for him. For me as well, honestly. I had only intended to poison the Crown Prince. At this rate, I would need to start billing the empire by the hour.
I looked at Arthur. "Finish the arrests. Seal the hall records. No one leaves until Bernard has their name, role, statement, and whether they answered the old phrasing."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Father Lorian goes to the estate."
Arthur’s brows lifted. "We’re collecting another one?"
"Do you prefer leaving him in palace custody where half the walls may be listening?"
"No, Your Excellency."
"Duke Rouvier will remain under imperial custody with Sonomi observation. Lord Pellas under medical and ward inspection. Lady Evelina under the Empress’s protection. The rehearsal master under supervised questioning. Any clergy connected to the bishop’s deputy are to be separated before they can coordinate lies."
Bernard wrote until his pen snapped, staring at the broken nib. A servant hurried forward with another. Good service.
I turned toward the Emperor. "Your Majesty, I’ll need authorization to pursue Lady Marielle through nonstandard channels."
The Emperor looked at the Empress. The Empress looked at me. "She was in my son’s first dance arrangement," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"She stood near him that night."
"Yes."
"And I allowed it."
The Emperor’s face tightened. Lady Evelina closed her eyes. I did not soften the truth. There would be time for soft cloth later, if anyone deserved it. Right now, the wound needed pressure.
"You did," I said.
The Empress nodded once, then looked at the Emperor. "Grant it."
The Emperor did. Publicly. With enough witnesses that even the most creative courtier would struggle to pretend otherwise.
"House Konstantin is authorized to pursue Lady Marielle Rouvier in connection with unauthorized rites, threats to imperial succession, and crimes against protected children," he declared. "All officials are to cooperate."
A lovely sentence. I would have preferred it sooner. But one must not become greedy with imperial usefulness.
The Verdant observer descended the gallery steps without being invited. No one stopped her. Either the palace guards were too rattled, or faerie women with rain scented letters had a way of making thresholds feel optional.
She reached the floor and inclined her head, first to the Emperor, then the Empress, then me. "Grand Duke," she said. "If someone is using Verdant passage papers, I will inspect the road."
"Will you?"
"Yes."
"How generous."
"Not at all. I dislike thieves who borrow my doors."
My doors. Not our doors. Interesting.
"I dislike people who use children as ritual notes," I said.
"So I noticed."
We looked at one another for a breath too long. The air felt strange. Not romantic. Not anything as cheap as that. More like two blades recognizing they’d both been sharpened by a familiar kind of stone.
I looked away first. Not because I had lost. Because I had more urgent problems.
Obviously.
"Arthur," I said. "We return to the estate. Bring Lorian. Bring the shard. Bring the cloth."
The priest laughed weakly again. "You are too late."
I looked at him. "People keep telling me that."
"Because it remains true."
"How repetitive."
His eyes gleamed. "The third did not open here because you denied the hall. But the Choir has already found another witness."
I stepped closer. Arthur tightened his grip on the priest.
"Who?"
Father Lorian smiled. The seal at his throat pulsed. Abi moved, but this time the black mark didn’t spread toward the priest’s mouth. It moved inward. His eyes rolled back, his body going slack.
For a moment, I thought he’d died. Then Abi swore under his breath. A rare thing.
"What happened?" I asked.
His face had gone cold. "He was not killed."
The priest breathed shallowly. Alive. Empty eyed. Not unconscious.
Hollow.
"Then what?"
"The words were taken back."
The hall went very quiet. Father Lorian stared at nothing, lips parted, eyes empty of every answer he might have given.
A witness. Another witness. Lady Marielle. The forged Verdant papers. The red glass shard wrapped in Ansel’s name.
I folded the cloth carefully and placed it inside my coat.
"Very well," I said. My voice sounded pleasant. Extremely pleasant.
Abi glanced at me. The observer did too.
I smiled. "If the Choir is collecting witnesses, then we shall collect them first."
And if they disliked that, they could file a complaint. Preferably in person. I enjoyed dealing with complaints.
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