Evidence. It was the only currency that mattered now.
The forged note was a temporary shield, but I needed the sword. I needed to trace Seraphina's plan back to its source and find proof so undeniable that even Cassian's narrative couldn't twist it.
My first move was the apothecary, 'Elixir & Essence.' Using the excuse of purchasing "soothing herbs for study fatigue," I ventured into the Lower Merchant District with a single, trusted maid. The shop was small, dusty, and smelled of camphor and desperation. The proprietor, a gaunt man with nervous eyes named Orwin, jumped when the bell above his door chimed.
"M-my lady! How can I serve?" His eyes darted to my silver-blonde hair, my fine gown. He recognized nobility, and fear spiked in his aura—a sickly yellow thread in my vision.
"I require ingredients for a restorative tea," I said, my voice deliberately airy, playing the pampered noble girl. "Something for clarity of mind. I've been so distracted with my studies."
As he fumbled with jars, I let my gaze wander. Behind the counter, a ledger lay open. My enhanced sight, still unclear but sharpening daily, picked out a recent entry in familiar, flowing script: "Vale account—final settlement. Orders for M. Root and S. Extract were fulfilled. Delivery: White Gardenia."
White Gardenia. The flower symbolizes the academy's crest. The delivery location.
"Do you have any moonbell?" I asked innocently.
Orwin flinched as if struck. "N-no, my lady! A forbidden, toxic substance! I would never…"
"Oh, of course not," I simpered. "Silly me. I must be thinking of shadow cap." Another controlled toxin.
He dropped a bottle of harmless lavender with a clatter. The threads around him flashed violent red with panic. Guilt. He was compromised.
I left with a bag of overpriced peppermint; the evidence was circumstantial, but the thread leading from him to Seraphina is now vivid and pulsing in my mind. He was the source. But I needed the physical poison.
The "White Gardenia" delivery point had to be a statue or planter in the academy grounds. That evening, under the cover of dusk, I began my search. The gardens were vast, but my fate-sight gave me a direction. The crimson thread from Seraphina led me to a secluded, white marble statue of the first emperor, with a giant gardenia carved at its base.
My fingers traced the cold stone. There. A hairline crack in the pedestal, cleverly disguised as a mortar line. I pried it open with my fingernail.
Empty.
Seraphina had already retrieved the vial. The poison was in her possession. The tea party is tomorrow.
A wave of helplessness threatened to drown me. I felt the weight of the apothecary's guilt and the clue from the ledger, but I still lacked the actual weapon. Without it, I couldn't prove her intent.
"Looking for something, Lady Thorne?"
I whirled, my heart in my throat.
Prince Lucian stepped from behind a hedge, his storm-grey eyes missing nothing. He glanced at the open hiding spot, then back at my face.
"I could ask you the same, Your Highness," I deflected, quickly sealing the niche.
"I was taking the air. And following a hunch." He moved closer, his voice dropping. "My brother's favorite tool has been unusually active. And you, our resident anomaly, are lurking in gardens. The tea party is tomorrow. The pieces suggest an… unfortunate event."
"You believe it too."
"I believe in incentives," he said, echoing our first conversation. "Seraphina's incentive is to become Crown Princess. A dramatic, publicly solved assassination attempt on Cassian, with a perfect, unstable culprit, would make her the heroic, comforting figure at his side while removing a rival. It's a classic move."
Hearing it laid out so clinically made it even more horrifying. "The culprit being me."
"The original script, yes." He studied me. "But you've torn up your lines. So she'll improvise. The poison will still be used. The frame will still be attempted. But the method may change." He paused. "You intercepted a note. The cancellation order."
I stared at him. "How could you possibly know that?"
A faint, humorless smile. "I have my sources in the servants' passages. They report a certain silver-haired lady engaging in forgery." He raised a hand to stop my protest. "A clever move. It was a risky but clever move. It may delay her, but it won't stop her. She'll have a backup plan."
"Then what do I do?" The question left me in a whisper. I hadn't meant to sound so lost.
Lucian's expression softened, just a fraction. "You do what you're already doing. You investigate. But you're looking for a thing. Look instead for a person. Who else benefits from chaos at the tea party? Who would Seraphina trust to handle the poison if she couldn't? She won't carry it herself."
Another player. Of course. Seraphina was the architect, but she'd need a hand to actually place the poison.
"Thank you," I said, genuinely.
"Don't thank me. I'm protecting a potentially valuable asset to the empire's future," he said, his tone shifting back to analytical. "A noble who sees clearly is rarer than mithril. Just… be careful tomorrow. The garden isn't the only stage. The reaction of the audience is part of the play."
He meant Cassian. Kaelen would also be in attendance as an honored guest.
As Lucian melted back into the shadows, I felt the fragile blue thread between us strengthen. A true ally.
I looked toward the illuminated windows of the academy's grand hall, where the tea party would unfold. The trap was set, even if the bait had changed. I had less than a day to find Seraphina's accomplice and intercept the poison.
And as I turned to go, a faint, golden warmth flickered for a second in the palm of my hand—a spark of holy power reacting to my desperation.
It was a warning. The power within was stirring, and in a place full of sharp-eyed nobles and a prince with a system, an accidental manifestation could be a death sentence all its own.