Page 46

“He may not know the full connection,” I say quietly.

“And if he does?”

I look at the note again.

“Then he has been waiting for something like Corin.”

The lamp flame flickers.

I reroll the document carefully, forcing my hands steady.

The bond hums beneath my ribs, warm and distant, a living line stretching outward toward a man Vaerith wants to provoke into becoming evidence.

I cannot warn him directly.

Not plainly. Not while mirrors watch and Talen slinks through corridors eager to impress his master.

So I write.

I pull a scrap of registry paper toward me and draft a dull administrative notice in coded contract language.

West drainage arcade inspection postponed due to mirror calibration irregularity. Avoid reflective surfaces until seals are rechecked. Behavioral triggers under review: threat-response correlation confirmed. Anchor proximity alters surge pattern.

Mira reads it twice.

“That is subtle?”

“To anyone else, it is nonsense.”

“To him?”

“He will understand enough.”

“And how exactly do you plan to deliver this?”

“Bren runs chimney ash past the west wall before dusk.”

“That is not a plan.”

“It is probability.”

Mira gives me a long look. “You are lying to both of us now.”

“Possibly a little.”

She takes the note with visible reluctance and tucks it into her sleeve. Then she catches my wrist before I can turn back toward the shelves.

“Isolde.”

I look at her.

“If your bloodline is tied to this, Vaerith is not going to let you walk away because you ask politely.”

“I was not planning to ask politely.”

Fear flickers openly across her face before she buries it under dry irritation. “Good. Because I would hate to see you embarrass yourself.”

The affection in that almost undoes me.