The carriage moved through the residential streets for another few minutes before the road widened and the buildings gave way to the kind of architecture that announced old money without needing to try.
These were buildings with high walls, maintained stonework, and gates with guards who stood at attention.
It seed one of the rchants that had been kidnapped wasn't one of those ordinary rchants.
The carriage slowed, then finally stopped before a gate.
One of the guards approached, his hand raised. He arrived at the carriage window, and Daisy produced her badge without being asked.
The guard collected it, studied it, straightened, and said sothing to his colleague.
The gates opened.
The carriage rolled through, wheels crunching over a gravel path that curved around a central fountain before opening into a wide courtyard.
The main house rose ahead of them, looking neat yet abandoned.
The carriage stopped, then Daisy and Noah climbed down from the carriage.
The front doors opened before they reached the steps.
The man who erged was trim and unhurried, dressed in the dark uniform of senior household staff, his silver hair combed back.
Noah found it hard to imagine the man without his hair combed back. In fact, in his eyes, the man was the stock image for butlers.
The man descended the steps at a pace that was neither rushed nor slow, and when he reached them he inclined his head with practiced courtesy.
"Welco," he said. "I am Tom, the head butler of the Fontaine household. We were inford to expect a visit from the palace."
His eyes moved briefly to Noah, registered nothing, and returned to Daisy. "Please, follow ."
He turned and led them back up the steps and through the main doors.
The interior was beautifully designed without being excessive. It had wide corridors with high ceilings and portraits of past family heads spaced at even intervals.
But Noah could tell. This building had the particular quiet of a house that had reduced its staff and hadn't yet decided whether to admit it.
"Tom," Daisy said, her voice level as they walked, "what is your assessnt of the disappearance of the head of the household? Your honest one."
Tom didn't stop as he walked.
"A dreadful business," he said. "Mr. Fontaine was a thodical man. Careful with his movents, and careful with his associations. I refuse to believe that he simply disappeared."
He paused for a single step.
"My honest assessnt is that soone made use of the current climate. The uncertainty in the city has created opportunities for those who wished to act without drawing imdiate scrutiny."
"The Fontaine family has rivals who would benefit considerably from Mr. Fontaine's absence at this particular mont."
"Which rivals?" Daisy asked.
"The Armand family and the Lessworth family," Tom said. "The three houses have competed for the sa market share for more than two generations. It has always been competitive. In recent months, it beca sothing less civil than that."
Daisy said nothing, but Noah caught the faint crease between her brows before her expression settled back into its usual flatness.
They stopped before a door at the end of a quieter corridor.
Tom knocked twice.
A woman's voice ca from within. "Enter."
Tom opened the door and stepped aside.
The study was smaller than the rest of the house suggested it would be, lined with bookshelves and slling of ink and old paper.
Lady Fontaine sat behind a large desk near the window, her hands folded on its surface.
She was dressed formally for soone receiving visitors at ho, which told Noah she had been expecting this and had prepared for it.
He scanned her once and found what he was looking for, or rather, what was absent. She had no abyssal energy, nor any demonic signature beneath the surface.
She was an ordinary mage, and not a hybrid.
Tom introduced them with brief efficiency, nad their affiliation, and stepped back.
Lady Fontaine's eyes moved to Daisy and stayed there. "Thank you, Tom. That will be all."
Tom withdrew, pulling the door closed behind him.
"Tell what happened," Daisy said, settling into the chair across the desk without being invited. Noah remained standing near the door.
Lady Fontaine's composure held but her hands tightened slightly against each other.
"After the Hybrid Rain, Jas wanted to check on our interests personally. Several of our warehouses are in areas that were affected, and he didn't trust secondhand reports."
She paused.
"He left that morning with four guards. Everyone he visited confird the etings took place. He was seen leaving each location." Her voice stayed even. "He never ca ho."
"He wasn't alone," Daisy said. "The guards as well?"
"All four. Gone."
Daisy produced a small notebook. "I'll need the full list of everywhere he went that day. Every location, every person he t, in order."
Lady Fontaine opened her desk drawer and produced a folded paper. "I prepared this last night." She held it across the desk. "I assud soone would ask."
Daisy took it, unfolded it, and read it through before closing her notebook over it. "One more thing. I'd like to speak with your staff and look through the building. With your permission."
Lady Fontaine nodded once. "Whatever you need."
Daisy rose, inclining her head towards Lady Fontaine. "Thank you for your ti."
They left the study and found Tom waiting in the corridor exactly where they had left him, as if he hadn't moved at all.
"We'll need sowhere to speak with the staff individually," Daisy said.
"Of course." Tom led them back through the corridor and into a lounge off the main hall, comfortably furnished with chairs arranged around a low table. "I'll bring them to you one at a ti, if that suits."
"It does," Daisy said.
Tom left, pulling the door closed behind him.
The room was quiet. Daisy stood near the window, her eyes on the folded list in her hand. After a mont, without looking up, she spoke.
"What do you think?"
Noah considered it briefly. "In situations like this, the spouse is almost always the first place to look. Motive, access, opportunity." He paused. "But Lady Fontaine looks clean on all counts."
Daisy exhaled through her nose. She folded the list and tucked it away.
"That's exactly the problem," she said. "She's too clean."
She finally looked up. "And that doesn't make her innocent. It makes her even more suspicious."
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