Leticia stepped forward so she could be seen. Her voice was steady. “Erica was to see it done?”
The man’s mouth twisted. “She said she’d earn her way back into a higher circle once the Order returned. Tresham made her promises.”
Gabriel had heard enough. “Send him on to Bamburgh. Let the constable hear the rest.” His gaze was colder than stone. “Alive. He is worth more talking.”
Barrington nodded to his men. “Take him.”
The guard was hauled to his feet and marched away.
In the next cell, Tresham clutched his coat like a professor protecting his papers, even as iron bound his wrists. He didn’t look repentant, only irritated at being interrupted mid-lecture. Erica St. Clair Notley sat on the bench opposite him, her gown dirty and her lip split, still trying to look as though she held the upper hand.
Gabriel gave them no courtesy.
“You will be moved to Bamburgh by nightfall,” Barrington told them. “Treason and theft from titled families carry penalties this castleis no longer authorized to dispense.” His chin lifted slightly toward Tresham. “Your books and papers will be taken into custody.”
Tresham snarled, lunging until his chains clanked hard. “You’ve no idea what you are disrupting…”
“On the contrary,” Gabriel said softly, “we know exactly what we have ended.”
Erica stood when Leticia stepped up to the bars. “You would see me thrown to the wolves?” she hissed.
“You chose your own path,” Leticia replied. “I am simply stepping out of your way.”
Erica glared…but when she saw Barrington’s men arriving with chains and paperwork, her bravado wilted just a little. “May your wedding cake choke you,” she hissed.
Leticia didn’t even blink. “Blessings upon your next scheme,” she said calmly, and turned her back.
Tresham was dragged from the cell, ranting about legacy and symbols. Erica followed two paces behind, surrounded by guards. When they were gone from sight, only the sound of their footsteps retreating along the corridor remained.
Gabriel’s gaze lingered on the empty corridor. “He was the one who helped us decode Alastair’s journal,” he said quietly. “We trusted his insight. His discretion.”
Barrington’s mouth flattened. “He was brilliant,” he allowed. “That’s what made him so dangerous.”
Silence settled in the wake of it.
Leticia’s voice came, steady and clear. “He did not rebuild the Order for jewels.”
Gabriel turned to her.
“He rebuilt it for access,” she continued. “Position. A way into rooms that would never question him.”
Barrington gave a single nod. “Influence,” he said.
“And power that would not be seen until it was too late.”
Gabriel studied her, something deeper than relief in his expression now. “You saw that.”
Leticia held his gaze. “I understood enough.”
“Enough to walk into it,” he said.
She did not soften. “Not alone.”
The words settled between them.
Gabriel’s hand closed around hers, firm, certain. “No,” he said. “Not alone.”
Barrington removed his gloves and turned to Leticia. In his palm lay the brooch, gleaming in muted gold and sapphire, the sixth piece.
