The search for Theron consumed the next three days.
Palace guards swept the city, checking known safe houses and questioning contacts. My network of informants, newly expanded with imperial resources, chased leads that went nowhere. We found evidence she'd been planning her escape for weeks. False documents. Arranged passage on a merchant ship. Money moved through intermediaries.
She'd been three steps ahead the entire time.
On the third night, I sat in my new office, staring at maps and reports, trying to find the pattern I'd missed.
A knock interrupted me. Edrin entered without waiting for permission.
"You should rest," he said, closing the door behind him.
"I should find her."
"You will. But not by working yourself to exhaustion." He crossed to the desk and set down a bottle of wine and two cups. "Take a break. Just for an hour."
I should have sent him away. Should have kept working. But exhaustion was making my vision blur, and the walls felt like they were closing in.
"One hour," I said.
He poured wine and handed me a cup. We drank in silence for a moment.
"You're blaming yourself," he said finally.
"I let her escape."
"No. She outmaneuvered us. There's a difference." He leaned against the desk. "Theron has been playing this game since she was old enough to understand what power means. She's had years to build escape routes and contingencies. You had days to stop her."
"Days I wasted building cases and gathering witnesses."
"Days you spent doing things properly. Following law and protocol." His voice was gentle. "That's not weakness, Ryn. That's integrity. Theron won because she's willing to cheat. You're not."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that doing things right was worth the cost.
But Theron was free, and people who could have testified were disappearing.
"Your father must be disappointed," I said.
"My father is grieving. But he's also practical. He knows you did everything you could." Edrin paused. "He's also relieved, in a way. If Theron had been arrested, tried publicly, it would have been devastating for the Crown. Her escape is a scandal, yes. But it's a scandal that can be managed. A fugitive sister is better than a convicted traitor in the family."
There was something in his tone. Too measured. Too prepared.
I looked at him. "You don't seem surprised she got away."
"I'm not. I know my sister. She's brilliant and ruthless and she doesn't leave things to chance." He met my gaze without flinching. "I warned you she was dangerous. I told you moving against the imperial family would be complicated."
"You did."
"So don't blame yourself for her being better at this than we expected."
The conversation felt rehearsed. Like he'd practiced these exact words.
But I was too tired to interrogate it further.
"Have you thought about my offer?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Which one? You've made several."
"The one that matters. About us." He set down his wine. "I know the timing is terrible. You're dealing with Theron's escape, the investigation, everything. But I need to know where we stand."
"We stand as colleagues. Allies."
"And nothing more?"
"I don't have room for more."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You keep saying that. Like you're full to capacity and can't fit anything else in. But Ryn, you're not full. You're empty. You've given everything away until there's nothing left for yourself."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it? Maer left because you wouldn't choose him. Sael is missing, probably dead, because he was trying to protect you. Your uncle is leaving because he can't watch you destroy yourself. And you're sitting here alone in an office, hunting a woman who outsmarted you, refusing to let anyone close enough to help."
"You're helping."
"Am I? Or am I just another person you're keeping at arm's length while you pretend you don't need anything?" He stood and moved closer. "I'm offering you partnership. Protection. Someone who understands the game and wants to play it with you instead of against you. And you keep refusing because you've convinced yourself that needing people is weakness."
"I don't need—"
"Yes, you do. Everyone does. But you especially. Because this city will eat you alive if you face it alone." His hand found my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "Let me in, Ryn. Not because I'm demanding it. But because you deserve to have someone in your corner who actually understands what you're fighting."
I should have pulled away. Should have maintained distance.
But I was tired. So tired. And his touch was warm and his words were seductive and part of me wondered if he was right.
If maybe I'd been so focused on staying independent that I'd made myself vulnerable in worse ways.
"I'll think about it," I said quietly.
"That's all I'm asking." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. Gentle. Almost tender. "Take care of yourself, Ryn. Let someone help you. It doesn't have to be me, but it should be someone."
He left, and I sat alone with his wine and his words and the growing suspicion that something about all of this didn't add up.
But I was too exhausted to figure out what.
Joss found me still working near midnight.
"You're going to collapse," he said, dropping into the chair across from my desk.
"I'm fine."
"You're not. You haven't slept properly in three days. You barely eat. And you're staring at the same reports like they'll suddenly reveal something new." He crossed his arms. "Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"There's plenty. Theron escaped. Sael is missing. Your uncle is leaving. And you're sitting here pretending you're not falling apart."
"I'm not falling apart."
"Ryn." His voice was firm. "I've known you since we were children. I know when you're lying. And you're lying right now."
I set down the report I'd been reading and rubbed my eyes. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to admit that this is hard. That you're scared you failed. That you're worried Theron will keep hurting people and it'll be your fault for not stopping her." He leaned forward. "I want you to be human for five minutes instead of pretending you're made of stone."
"If I stop being stone, I'll break."
"Maybe breaking is what you need."
I looked at him. At the concern in his face, the friendship that had lasted decades despite everything I'd put him through.
"I keep losing people," I said quietly. "My parents. Harven. Maer. Sael. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead or gone. And I don't know how to stop it."
"You don't stop it. You accept that some things are beyond your control."
"That's not good enough."
"It has to be. Because the alternative is blaming yourself for everything until there's nothing left of you." He paused. "Maer didn't leave because you failed him. He left because he couldn't watch you refuse to let yourself have anything. Sael didn't die because you weren't careful enough. He died because Theron is ruthless and he was trying to stop her. None of that is your fault."
"It feels like my fault."
"I know. But feelings aren't facts." He stood and walked to the window. "You want to know what I think? I think you're so afraid of failing people that you've stopped letting yourself care about them properly. You keep everyone at a distance so when they leave, it doesn't hurt as much. But it doesn't work. It still hurts. You're just also alone."
"I have you."
"You do. But I'm not enough, and you know it." He turned back to face me. "Edrin offered you something, didn't he? Partnership or protection or whatever words he used."
"How did you know?"
"Because I know how princes operate. And I know you're considering it, even though you don't want to admit it."
I didn't confirm or deny.
"Be careful with him," Joss said. "He's been helpful, yes. But he's also a prince playing for the throne. Everything he does serves his interests first. Even helping you."
"I know that."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you're vulnerable right now. And vulnerable people make decisions they regret."
"I'm not going to accept his offer."
"Good. Because you deserve better than being someone's secret while his wife pretends not to notice." He walked to the door, then paused. "But Ryn? You do need to let someone in eventually. Not Edrin. But someone. Because this job will destroy you if you face it alone."
He left, and I sat in the quiet office, surrounded by evidence of failure, trying to figure out how to be strong enough to do this job without letting it hollow me out completely.
The next morning brought new information.
One of my informants had tracked down a merchant who'd seen Theron boarding a ship three nights ago. Heading east toward the Freemen Cities of Toma. Neutral territory where imperial authority didn't reach.
Smart. She could disappear into Toma for years, building new networks, waiting for opportunities.
I reported it to the Emperor.
"Toma," he said, staring at the map. "She'll be untouchable there."
"For now. But she'll need resources, allies. Eventually she'll make contact with someone we can track."
"Eventually might be years."
"Then we wait years." I paused. "Your Majesty, even with Theron gone, we can still proceed with the public hearing. Present evidence against the conspiracy, convict the ministers, dismantle the networks she left behind."
"Without the satisfaction of seeing my daughter face justice."
"Without that, yes. But with the satisfaction of knowing the conspiracy is broken. That the invasion was stopped. That reforms can begin."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Schedule the hearing. Two days from now. Present everything we have. Let the realm see how deep the corruption went, and how we rooted it out."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And Warden? After the hearing, after the trials, take a day to rest. You've earned it." His expression softened slightly. "My son tells me you're working yourself to exhaustion. I need you functional, not burnt out."
"Your son talks to you about me?"
"He talks to me about many things. But yes, you come up frequently." The Emperor's eyes were shrewd. "He's concerned about you. As am I. Don't mistake concern for weakness. We need you strong."
I left the council chamber wondering how much Edrin told his father. Wondering if their concern was genuine or strategic.
Wondering if it mattered.
Because either way, I had a hearing to prepare.
And justice to deliver, even if it was incomplete.
Two days.
Then the realm would know everything.
And I'd face whatever came next.