Gordon reviewed the papers carefully. “This isn’t your handwriting.”
“I know that. But proving it won’t get us new furniture in time for the summit.” Finn rubbed his temples, felt a headache building behind his eyes. “We’ll have to use existing pieces from storage. Work with the furniture master to pull appropriate items for all the guest suites.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
After they left, Finn sank onto one of the ridiculous child-sized chairs and put his head in his hands. The wine. The invitations. Now this. Each incident individually could be dismissed as accident or oversight. Together, they painted a picture of someone who couldn’t handle basic logistics.
Someone incompetent.
Someone who didn’t belong.
You’re just stressed, he told himself.Making silly mistakes. You need to be more careful.
/~/~/~/~/
The file disappeared on Saturday. Finn tore through his office for the third time, checking every drawer, every shelf, every surface. The folder on Queen Valdis - the most important, most detailed file he’d compiled - had simply vanished.
“Gordon!” His voice came out sharper than he intended.
His assistant appeared within seconds. “Your Grace?”
“The Valdis file. The red folder with all her preferences, dietary requirements, and the briefing on her kingdom’s current political situation. Have you seen it?”
“Not since yesterday afternoon. You had it on your desk when I left.”
Finn stared at the desk. He’d been reviewing that file last night before bed, memorizing details about Valdis’s elaborate protocols and particular requirements. He’d definitely put it back in the red folder. And he always filed the red folders in the top drawer of his desk.
The drawer was empty.
They searched for two hours. Gordon methodically worked through every possible location while Finn became increasingly frantic. The summit started in ten days. Queen Valdis arrived in eight. That file contained everything he needed to avoid offending Safe Harbor’s most difficult and influential guest.
“The storage closet,” Gordon said suddenly. “The one near the records room. Sometimes items get misfiled there.”
Finn had never even been to that closet. He followed Gordon down two hallways to a small, dimly lit space filled with shelves of old documents and supplies. Gordon pulled items aside, searching, until…
“Here.” He extracted a red folder from between a box of old tax records and someone’s forgotten ledgers.
Finn grabbed it, flipped it open. His notes. His carefully compiled information on Queen Valdis. Relief flooded through him, immediately followed by confusion.
“I’ve never been in this closet. How did it get here?”
Gordon’s expression was troubled. “Your Grace, I don’t mean to overstep, but...you’re the most organized person I’ve ever met. You don’t just misfile things. You certainly don’t misfile them in storage closets you’ve never visited.”
“Then how…”
“I don’t know.” Gordon met his eyes steadily. “But something isn’t right.”
Finn wanted to argue. Wanted to insist he’d simply made a mistake, that the stress was affecting his usually reliable memory. But Gordon was right. He’d built his entire life on being organized and reliable. Even under pressure, he didn’t lose critical files.
So how had one of his most important files ended up in a closet he hadn’t even known existed?
/~/~/~/~/
“Someone’s sabotaging you,” Jericho said flatly.
They sat in Finn’s office that evening, door closed, Finn having just finished recounting every incident. The wine. The invitations. The furniture. The missing file.
“I thought that, but surely that’s just me being paranoid.”
