The question I had planted in the headmaster's study—Where did you acquire the White Veil?—did not linger in the air. It became an immediate, tangible command. Before the echoes of my voice had faded from the oak-paneled room, Prince Lucian was in motion.
"We trace it. Now," he said, his tone brooking no argument. He looked to the royal physician. "You will lead. Take the head healer and a professor from the alchemy department. The Academy's secure stores are under their purview. Captain, provide an escort. No one touches a logbook or a ledger until we are present."
The physician nodded sharply. Within minutes, our somber party had transformed into a determined procession moving through the academy's hushed evening halls. Lucian, the physician, the Head Healer, the Captain, two guards, and I.
