"The entire ocean is affected by a pebble."
***
Lord Blackwood tilted his head. "An interesting proposal, young Leone. You believe your... familiarity with the staff might prove beneficial?"
I hunched my shoulders and shifted my weight from foot to foot. "I just thought... maybe I could notice if someone was acting nervous? Or strange? I've been trying to be better about paying attention to people instead of just..." I let the sentence die and wrung my hands together.
Pathetic. Keep it pathetic.
"My cousin has a point," came a new voice from the doorway.
Leo von Valerius stepped into the hall.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
There he was. The protagonist himself. Tall, golden-haired, sword at his hip like he'd been born with it there. He walked like he owned every room he entered, which, to be fair, he probably could if he wanted to.
Of course you're here, Golden Boy. What, do you have a sixth sense that tingles whenever there's an opportunity to deliver a speech about justice? Did a servant run to tell you something dramatic was happening, or did you just smell the plot relevance from three counties away?
"Young Master Valerius," Father said. Genuine surprise in his voice. "I wasn't aware you were visiting our estate."
"I was passing through the region and thought I'd pay my respects to House Leone," Leo replied. His hand rested on his sword pommel. Not threatening. Just... there. The unconscious authority of someone who'd never once questioned whether he belonged somewhere. "I couldn't help but overhear your discussion as I was being escorted inside. A theft of such magnitude requires thorough investigation."
Translation: I heard drama and came running like a golden retriever who heard the treat jar open. Because nothing says "paying respects" like eavesdropping on a criminal investigation and immediately assuming you're needed.
Grundy stepped forward. He wiped his palms on his trousers, a nervous habit I'd noticed weeks ago. "I'm somewhat concerned about involving young Master Kaelen in this matter. The servants might feel intimidated by his presence during the search. Given his... position in the household."
Nice try, Grundy. Plant the seed that my involvement would be suspicious. Make them think I'm unstable. Too bad you're playing checkers while I'm thinking three moves ahead.
"I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable," I said. I pitched my voice higher. Anxious. "Maybe I should just stay here? I don't want to cause problems..."
"Nonsense," Leo declared.
I could practically see the heroic conviction radiating off him.
"If my cousin believes he can assist in uncovering the truth, then assist he should. Justice requires all available resources."
God, you really can't help yourself. Do you lie awake at night composing these inspirational quotes? I swear, if this were Earth, you'd have a motivational podcast with ten million subscribers.
Blackwood nodded. His dark eyes studied me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "Very well. Though I confess I'm curious about this sudden civic responsibility from the Leone family's youngest son. It's rather out of character, from what I understand."
I let my face crumple. Shoulders drawing inward. "I know I haven't been... that I've made mistakes. Too many mistakes." I looked down at my feet. "But maybe this is a chance to do something right for once? To prove I'm not completely useless?"
Leo's expression softened. The look a teacher gives a struggling student who finally gets something right. "Redemption begins with small steps, cousin. The path to becoming a better man is walked one decision at a time."
Oh my god. He actually talks like that. Like, in real life. To people. And nobody punches him.
"Then it's settled," Blackwood announced. "We shall proceed to the servants' quarters without further delay. Grundy, lead the way."
Grundy bowed. I caught the tightness around his mouth. "Of course, my lord. I believe we should start with the kitchen staff quarters. They would have had the most opportunity during the festival preparations."
And there it is. Lead them straight to the newest maid. The one with no allies. No history. No protection. The perfect scapegoat, already gift-wrapped.
We walked to the servants' wing in a silent parade. I fell into step behind Father and Leo, hunched over like someone who expected to be told any second that he didn't belong here.
The change from the main house to the servants' quarters hit hard. Wide corridors with tapestries gave way to narrow passages with bare stone walls. The air got colder. Smelled like lye soap and boiled cabbage and old sweat.
I spotted Lyra standing among a cluster of other maids near the entrance. Her face was blank, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. Her hands were clasped too tight at her waist.
Our eyes met. I gave her the smallest smile, barely a twitch of my lips, then looked away fast. Like I was embarrassed to have been caught acknowledging a servant.
Hold on, Lyra. Just a little longer.
Grundy appeared from a side corridor with a tray of cleaning supplies. "The quarters are prepared for inspection, my lord. I've asked the staff to remain available in their common areas should you need to question anyone."
I positioned myself near the tray as he set it down on a narrow table. Shifted my weight like I was trying to stay out of the way while being too nervous to leave the group. A bottle of cleaning fluid sat within easy reach. Cork slightly loose.
I'd checked during my reconnaissance last week.
Now for the fun part. One chance to plant the seed. Time to put all those years of watching slapstick comedy to good use.
Thomas Hartwell rounded the corner at exactly the right moment. He carried a stack of fresh linens piled high enough to block half his vision. Thomas was maybe twenty-five, with the kind of quiet resentment in his eyes that came from being passed over for promotion too many times. I'd made it my business to learn which servants had grudges.
Thomas's barely-suppressed ambition made him perfect.
Right on schedule, buddy. Just like the predictable background character you were written to be.
I turned with exaggerated suddenness. A caricature of startled foolishness. My elbow caught the bottle and sent it tumbling from the tray. It hit the stone floor with a sharp crack. The cork popped free. Pungent cleaning fluid spread across the flagstones, its chemical smell filling the corridor.
"Oh! Oh no!" I dropped to my knees beside the puddle. "I'm so sorry! I'm such a clumsy fool! I didn't see, I wasn't paying attention..."
Thomas set his linens aside and knelt to help. "It's all right, young master. Just a bit of cleaning solution. Nothing that can't be mopped up."
I waved my hands near the puddle, making a show of helping while accomplishing absolutely nothing. "This smell is dreadful." I wrinkled my nose. "It's almost as sharp as that cheap spirit Steward Grundy drinks in his office after the evening accounts. Gives me such headaches when I walk past his door."
Thomas went still for just a second.
There we go. Seed planted.
"I, ah..." Thomas glanced at Grundy, then back at me. "I wouldn't know about that, young master."
"Oh, of course not! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." I scrambled to my feet, almost slipping in the puddle I'd just created.
"Please forget I mentioned it. I talk too much when I'm nervous. Everyone says so. Father says it's my worst quality, besides the... well, besides everything else."