"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."
***
"Lord Blackwood’s erald necklace has gone missing," Lucius explained. He used that patient tone people reserve for explaining simple concepts to idiots. "A family heirloom. Quite valuable. He believes one of our servants might have taken it during the harvest festival three days ago. There was considerable traffic between the estates that evening."
Believes. What a fun word. What he ans is "has been told by his corrupt steward who set this whole thing up."
"But that’s... that’s horrible," I stamred. I let my voice crack a little for good asure. "Surely none of our people would do such a thing? They’re all loyal, aren’t they?"
Lady Vivienne laughed. The sound was musical and sharp, like a knife wrapped in silk.
"Oh, Kaelen, you’re so wonderfully naive." She smiled at the way a cat smiles at a mouse it’s decided not to eat yet. "You still believe in fairy tales where the poor are always virtuous and loyalty matters more than hunger. It’s almost charming. Almost. But in the real world, darling, desperation beats honor every ti. The servants are loyal exactly as long as their bellies are full and their futures look bright. Not a mont longer."
And corruption turns even trusted servants into murderers. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, stepmother dear?
The sound of horses on cobblestones ca through the windows. I looked out and saw a small procession approaching. A fancy carriage with mounted guards on either side. Polished armor. Blackwood crests everywhere. The morning sun made everything glitter.
Maximum intimidation factor. These people really know how to make an entrance.
Father straightened up. "Rember," he said, voice low enough that only family could hear, "we are cooperating fully with this investigation. We have nothing to hide. We will extend every courtesy. Our reputation cannot afford another scandal."
Translation: smile and nod and pray they don’t look too closely at our finances.
The great doors opened with a noise like old bones creaking.
Lord Marcel Blackwood walked in first. Maybe fifty years old. Silver in his hair. The kind of eyes that catalogued everything they saw and forgot nothing. This was a man who’d built his fortune by being smarter than everyone around him.
Behind him ca his steward, Marcus Grundy.
Thin. Twitchy. Fingers that never stopped moving. He walked like a servant should walk, all humble and subordinate, but sothing about him made my skin crawl. There was oil in his smile and poison in his voice.
There’s our villain. Looking exactly as slimy as the novel described.
"Aldric, I appreciate your willingness to assist on such short notice." Blackwood’s voice was smooth. Gave away nothing.
"Of course, Marcel. Anything to help recover your family’s treasure." Father matched his tone exactly. Diplomatic. Careful. "Though I must say, I’m surprised you suspect one of our people. They’ve all been with us for years. Thoroughly vetted."
Grundy stepped forward. The movent looked submissive, but there was sothing predatory underneath it. Like a snake pretending to be a worm.
"My lord, if I may? In my experience, it’s often the newest servants who pose the greatest risk." His voice was high and thin. "They haven’t yet developed proper loyalty to their employers. They’re still... uncertain in their allegiances."
And there it is. The setup. Right on schedule.
Blackwood nodded. Grave. Serious. Playing his role in this whole garbage show. "Grundy makes a valid point. Perhaps we should begin our search with your most recent hires? It would save everyone ti."
And there’s the trap. Closing around Lyra’s neck like a noose.
I watched everything unfold like I was watching a play. I knew the script. I knew how it ended. In an hour, they’d find the necklace exactly where Grundy had planted it. In six hours, Lyra would be dead. Hanged in the town square as a warning to other "thieves." An innocent girl ground up by the machine of noble politics so so corrupt steward could cover his tracks and Leo could get a sad backstory mont.
Unless soone rewrites the ending.
I cleared my throat.
The sound was small and pathetic, but the room went quiet anyway. Everyone turned to look at . Father. Lucius. Lady Vivienne. Blackwood. Grundy.
Okay. Here we go. Either this works or I just made things a hundred tis worse.
"Um... if I may suggest sothing?" I let my voice wobble. Uncertain. Apologetic. The voice of soone who knows they’re stepping out of line and hates themselves for it.
Father’s face went cold. His jaw tightened. "Kaelen, this is not the ti for—"
"No, please," I interrupted. I winced like I was surprised by my own boldness, which honestly wasn’t entirely an act. Interrupting Father was the kind of thing that usually got a lecture and three days of cold silence. "I just... I know so of the servants. The newer ones. I talk to them sotis."
That was true. I’d made a point of it over the past few weeks. Building relationships with the staff. Making myself seem harmless. Collecting information.
All part of my survival strategy, but they don’t need to know that.
"Maybe I could help with the search?" I continued. "I might notice if sothing seems... wrong. Out of place. I spend a lot of ti in the servants’ quarters anyway, so..."
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