The ring sat on her desk like a drop of fresh blood, catching moonlight in its polished surface. Selene stared at it long after the fire had turned to embers, her mind spiraling through every possibility, every question.
You are asking the wrong questions.
The words from the note replayed like a curse. They hadn't tried to hide it. No one leaves a symbol of the Crimson Court by accident. It was a message and a warning.
But it wasn't fear Selene felt.
It was fury.
By dawn, she had summoned Quinn again, who arrived groggy-eyed but alert, having long since grown used to Selene's restless demands.
"They left it in my room," she said, shoving the crimson ring into his hands. "They want me to know they're watching."
Quinn studied it carefully, flipping it between his fingers. "It's real. These aren't common. The court rumors say only high-ranking members of the Crimson Court have these. You don't pass them around lightly."
"Then someone powerful broke the rules to scare me."
"Or to push you off the scent."
Selene folded her arms. "We need to map the entire royal inner circle. Anyone close enough to Thorne, or to Damien. Especially the king."
Quinn raised a brow. "You think the king is involved?"
"I think he's being used. Or he's one of them. Either way, I want to know who benefits most from keeping Thorne dead."
"And Damien?"
She hesitated.
Quinn watched her with quiet interest. "You still don't know if he's your ally or your enemy, do you?"
"No," she admitted. "But he has more to gain from the truth than from lies. Unless…" Her voice lowered. "Unless he already knows the truth. And he's just feeding me breadcrumbs to keep me from burning the house down."
Quinn nodded slowly. "Then we follow the breadcrumbs. To the royal gates."
Later that morning, Selene returned to the palace under the guise of visiting the queen. She wore a modest gown in winter white with a fur cloak, Liora walking beside her hand in hand. They made a sweet picture one few would suspect of carrying blades under silk.
Court guards allowed her access, and she passed the throne room's golden doors with barely a second glance from the posted sentries.
Queen Mirelle greeted her with polite affection, seated among her ladies-in-waiting in a chamber filled with blooming winter roses, strange flowers for a queen, blooming despite the season.
"Lady Selene," the queen said, sipping tea, "I trust Virelith Manor has not frozen you solid yet?"
Selene bowed respectfully. "It's colder than Armitage Hall, but warmer than the grave."
The queen chuckled. "Still so sharp."
"I've come to speak about the archives your scribes keep, Your Majesty. My brother was working on legislation before his death. I believe some of his documents are still under royal seal."
Mirelle waved a hand. "Speak to Chamberlain Aldric. He oversees those things. But be warned, he likes his ink thicker than his wine, and twice as bitter."
Selene dipped her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Be quick about it. The king has not been in the best of moods lately."
Selene's expression stayed neutral. "I've heard the same."
She found Chamberlain Aldric in the east wing, poring over trade records and levies in a room that smelled of dust and discontent. A gaunt man in his sixties with thin gray hair and fingers stained with ink, Aldric looked up with irritation when Selene knocked.
"If you're here to challenge tariffs, you're late," he snapped.
"I'm here to review sealed documentation under Armitage Protocol Seven," she said calmly. "By the queen's permission."
Aldric's eyes narrowed. "I don't take orders from grieving sisters or scandalous brides."
Selene handed him a parchment with Mirelle's seal in wax still warm.
He read it. His mouth tightened.
"Wait here," he said, vanishing behind a shelf wall that clicked open with a hidden mechanism.
Selene glanced around. The chamber was lined with records, everything from land disputes to foreign treaties. This place was the brain of the realm, and Aldric was its twitchy nerve.
When he returned, he carried a thick leather-bound file wrapped in a velvet ribbon.
"Everything Thorne Armitage submitted before his death. You have one hour. I will remain here."
Selene took the bundle and sat. She opened it with careful fingers, and what she found nearly stole her breath.
There were letters. Dozens. Correspondences between Thorne and various nobles. But one stood out.
A letter addressed to Lord Damien Virelith.
Selene unfolded it and read slowly.
Damien,
If what you've said is true, then we are both standing too close to a fire that will burn us to ash. I will meet you on the southern cliffs at moonrise. Come alone. Bring the proof. If I do not return, protect Selene and Liora.
— Thorne
Selene's pulse thundered in her ears.
Damien had met with Thorne secretly just before his death.
on't read what I'm told to seal. I'm old, not suicidal."
She rose swiftly. "I'll be taking this letter."
"You'll take nothing. These records remain in crown custody."
Selene met his gaze with a deadly calm. "Then you can seal this chamber too. And me in it."
Aldric hesitated.
Then, with a grunt, he waved her off. "One parchment. One."
She slid the letter into her satchel and exited without another word.
When she returned to Virelith Manor, Damien was waiting.
He stood on the steps with his arms crossed, cloaked in black like a storm cloud descending.
"You went to the palace."
"I went for answers," she said, brushing past him. "And I found some."
He followed. "You should have told me."
"Would you have told me?" she shot back.
He paused.
"No."
Selene turned and threw the letter onto the table between them.
"You met him. Before he died. You lied."
Damien picked up the parchment, eyes scanning it.
"I didn't lie. I omitted."
"That's the same thing when a body is in the ground."
He exhaled, tension visible. "Thorne reached out to me. Said he had evidence something that could bring down half the court. He was desperate. Rattled."
"And you went to him?"
"At the cliffs. Like the letter said."
"Then what happened?"
Damien's eyes darkened. "He never arrived."
Selene stared. "You swear?"
"I waited until dawn. When I returned, news came that he'd died in an ambush halfway across the city." His jaw clenched. "Only I knew he planned to be somewhere else."
Selene backed away slowly. "Then his death was staged."
"It was a cover-up," Damien said. "And we were the bait."
She didn't sleep that night.
Instead, she sat by the hearth with Liora nestled against her side, her fingers stroking the child's hair while her thoughts raced like war drums.
Someone had orchestrated Thorne's disappearance and made sure neither she nor Damien could prevent it. But why leave clues behind? Why toy with her?
Because they think I'll break.
She wouldn't.
The Crimson Court wanted fear.
She would give them fire.