Morning arrived with paper. A lot of paper.
Mountains of it.
Had I known that my decision to ddle with the Crown Prince would result in such an offensive amount of docuntation, I might have considered poisoning him after all.
No, that was too harsh. Maybe just mildly.
The Elysian Estate’s study, which had always been a sanctuary of tasteful order, had beco a battlefield of sealed folders, archival copies, physician reports, temple registrations, palace ward diagrams, and several docunts so old they looked as if they would crumble from the emotional burden of being handled by modern incompetents.
I stared at the stacks on my desk. The stacks stared back.
Naturally, I won.
Paper had no chance against .
Still, the sight was unpleasant enough to affect my mood. There was sothing deeply insulting about being forced to work this early in the morning when the sun had only just begun dragging itself over the Capital’s rooftops.
"Your Excellency," Bernard said carefully, standing near the desk with a ledger in his arms. "The imperial archive delivery arrived at first bell. As instructed by His Highness, it was registered under the lower vault research request."
"Was it inspected before leaving the palace?"
"Yes. Twice."
"By whom?"
"Palace archival clerks first. Then by an imperial guard assigned under the empress’s household."
I leaned back.
Of course.
The empress’s household again.
That woman truly watched everything with the gentle patience of a cat sitting beside a mouse hole. I could admire it if I was not currently the mouse in question.
Though, to be fair, I was a mouse with a sword, wealth, and a Jinn brother.
No sensible cat would find easy prey.
William stood at my side, already sorting through the docunts with the calm precision of a man who found joy in making chaos kneel. His eyes skimd seals, signatures, and dates with terrifying speed.
Abi, on the other hand, was lying upside down on the sofa.
His head dangled over the edge, silver hair spilling toward the carpet, violet eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it had offended him personally.
He had been silent for three minutes.
Three.
I distrusted this developnt.
"Abi."
"Yes, brother?"
"Why are you so quiet?"
"Am I not allowed to be quiet?"
"No. Your silence usually an sothing terrible."
He twisted his head slightly to look at .
"That is a very controlling thing to say."
"I prefer the term preventive."
"You suspect even when I do nothing."
"Yes."
"Is this because I am ancient, powerful, and prone to boredom?"
"It is because you are you."
He considered that, then nodded. "Fair."
At least he was gaining self-awareness. Slowly. Painfully. With the enthusiasm of a boulder learning etiquette.
I returned my attention to the docunts before and opened the first folder.
The cover bore the imperial seal and a label written in neat script.
Records Concerning the Stabilization Rite of His Imperial Highness Adrien Valerian Yarina.
Stabilization.
What a polite word.
People used polite words when they wanted to bury the ugly things they are doing.
I flipped the cover open.
The first page contained a summary of the rite perford when the Crown Prince was seven years old. The language was formal, dry, and carefully scrubbed of anything useful at first glance.
His Highness experienced recurring episodes of weakness following mana turbulence.
The palace physicians recomnded isolation.
Temple consultants were invited due to the possibility of spiritual misalignnt.
A stabilization rite was perford under imperial supervision.
His Highness recovered.
I tapped the page.
"Recovered," I muttered.
William paused in his sorting. "Your Excellency?"
"It’s just dubious. If he recovered, why were follow-up rites conducted every year afterward?"
I turned the next page and placed it on the desk for them to see. "Here. Seven years old. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Thirteen. Fifteen. Seventeen. The most recent one was three months ago."
Abi sat upright.
The atmosphere around him shifted. He no longer looked like an ornantal household calamity lounging on expensive furniture. His eyes narrowed, and that faint pressure of his, the one he usually kept hidden unless he wanted to frighten people, seeped into the room like violet smoke.
"Once could be treatnt," Abi said. "Repeatedly ans maintenance."
"Or containnt," I replied.
William’s fingers tightened slightly around the docunt in his hand.
Bernard swallowed. Poor fellow. He was still young enough that the ugliness of court sches could disturb him. He would grow out of it eventually.
Hopefully not too much.
A little disturbance ant he still had a functioning conscience. Completely losing that would be inconvenient. House Konstantin had standards.
I turned another page.
The nas of the attending physicians were listed. Three had retired. One had died of fever. One had transferred to a provincial estate and disappeared from all public records two years later.
How neat and tidy.
How utterly suspicious.
Then ca the temple officials.
Father Caldus of the Chapel of Saint Orwen.
Lord Keeper Marcellus, observer on behalf of the Imperial Archives.
"There he is."
Abi leaned forward. "That old paper snake was present?"
"Not as a temple official," I said, tracing the line with one finger. "But as an archival observer."
Bernard frowned. "Why would an archival observer attend a dical or spiritual rite?"
"Because the rite was not rely dical or spiritual."
William placed another sheet before .
"Your Excellency, look at this."
It was a copied diagram of the ritual chamber.
The room was circular. Wards were drawn along the floor in concentric rings. There were standard stabilization symbols, so old imperial invocations, several mana suppression lines, and at the center, a mark I had already seen too many tis.
A circle split by a descending line, with three small marks beneath it.
The sa symbol on the relic.
The sa pattern hinted in the chapel records.
The sa shape connected to the phrase vessel potential.
I stared at it for a long mont.
The paper did not burn.
A pity.
"This is becoming irritating," I said.
Abi’s smile was thin. "That symbol again."
"Yes."
"It is not rely a mark."
"I know."
"No," Abi said, his tone quieter. "You do not."
I looked at him.
He t my gaze for once without that infuriating grin. For a breath, he looked old. Not in the body, of course. His face remained youthful and annoyingly pretty in that non-human way. Still not as pretty as , maybe close. Anyhow, his eyes carried a distance I did not like.
A distance filled with things buried deep and rotting under mory.
"Do you recognize it now?" I asked.
Abi’s mouth curved faintly.
Fake.
Poorly done too.
"No."
"You should lie better."
"I am not lying."
"Then you are avoiding my question."
"That is different thing."
"Tsk. Still not justified enough."
He looked away.
So troubleso.
I wanted to drag the truth out of him. Unfortunately, prying too roughly at a being like Abi was unwise. Not because I feared him. Fear was too strong a word. I rely possessed a healthy respect for the fact that a Jinn with unresolved ancient trauma might cause structural damage to my estate if handled improperly.
And I liked this estate.
The study had excellent lighting.
I set Abi aside for now, though only temporarily. He should not think he escaped. No one escaped my curiosity. It was one of my more persistent qualities.
"Bernard," I said.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Cross-reference all officials listed in these rites with the chapel ledger, the House of Gentle rcy board, and the transfer routes connected to the intercepted children."
"I have already begun, Your Excellency."
"Good. Then continue faster."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
He bowed and retreated to the side table where several ledgers had been arranged. His shoulders were tense, but his hands were steady. William’s son might be weak-hearted, but he was not incompetent.
A weak heart could be trained.
Incompetence had to be buried.
taphorically, of course.
Usually.
A knock ca at the study door.
William turned. "Enter."
The door opened, and Spiro stepped in with a small book clutched to his chest. He was dressed properly today in one of the outfits delivered from the boutique, a dark green coat with silver buttons and soft boots that fit his feet at last. His hair had been brushed neatly, though one stubborn strand near his temple had already escaped.
He looked like a tiny noble scholar who had accidentally wandered into a conspiracy.
Which was quite close to the truth.
"Father," he greeted.
I looked at the book in his arms. "Are you supposed to be studying geography right now?"
"Yes."
"And yet here you are."
He lowered his gaze, then raised it again, gathering courage in that quiet way of his. "Sir William said I could ask you if I did not understand sothing."
I glanced at William whose expression remained serene.
Traitor.
"What is it?" I asked.
Spiro approached carefully and opened the book on the edge of my desk. It was a map of the Capital and its surrounding districts. His small finger touched the old aqueduct district marked near the southwest quarter.
"This place," he said. "I heard the knight ntion it last night."
I stared at him.
He stared back with the solemn expression of a child pretending he had not been eavesdropping.
This little thing.
He was becoming more Konstantin by the day.
"You should not listen to adult matters."
"I did not an to," he said quickly. "I woke up when I heard footsteps. I only heard a little."
"How little?"
He hesitated.
There it is.
"Enough."
Abi coughed.
I ignored him.
Spiro’s fingers tightened around the book. "Is it connected to the children?"
For a mont, the study beca quiet.
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