Mingxi’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade. “Someone sent a revenant after her. Perhaps direct your suspicion outward.”
Alarm rippled around the room.
“Capture?”
“Or kill?”
“For what purpose?”
Penelope released Mingxi’s sleeve and stood on her own, spine straight, voice steady. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I intend to find out.”
The chamber erupted in overlapping demands—assessment, accusation, speculation.
Lady Penelope Sinclair stood unmoving in the center of it all, back straight, fists clenched at her sides.
Mingxi remained a measured distance behind her, observing the faint tremor in her stance that was hidden beneath her flawless composure. He did not speak. He had no reason to; Penelope was effectively shielding herself.
Rowan D’Arcy lifted a hand. “Enough. Lady Penelope requires rest.”
Penelope’s head snapped toward him.
Her voice was level, aristocratic, and edged with exhaustion she refused to acknowledge. “I require answers, not bedrest.”
Councilor Thane scoffed under his breath. “Unstable. Possibly dangerous—”
Penelope stiffened.
Mingxi’s changed his posture a fraction to keep it subtle, instinctive, protective in a way he did not broadcast. His duty was to safeguard Council integrity, and currently, she was the most volatile point on the map.
Rowan didn’t give her a chance to argue again. “Councilor Shen. Escort Lady Penelope to the private resting chamber.”
Penelope inhaled sharply. But another wave of dizziness washed over her—quick, disorienting. Her knees threatened to buckle.
Mingxi stepped forward before she fell—not touching her, not invading her space, but anchoring her by sheer presence.
“Lady Penelope,” Mingxi said, tone precise and formal, “fatigue undermines judgment, not resolve. You have not failed. You are simply exhausted.”
Her eyes flicked to him, sharp, wary, unwillingly grateful, but she said nothing. Instead, she walked forward on her own, chin high, demanding the dignity she refused to lose.
Mingxi followed.
Chapter 15
They walked through the quiet corridor, their steps echoing softly against stone. Penelope kept her posture flawless. Breath controlled. Stride even. Chin lifted.
Someone who looked untouchable.
Mingxi followed a pace behind her, observing her with clinical precision.
“Lady Penelope,” he said, “the revenants’ behavior indicates deliberate targeting.”
She did not flinch, but her fingers curled slightly at her side.
“Deliberate?” she repeated.
“They did not strike indiscriminately,” Mingxi continued. “They moved with intent. They were directed at you. Not at anyone else. Not even me.”
Her heart thudded once, too loud in her own ears.
