Penelope opened it.
Lady Penelope,
Please be prepared within the hour.
You are to be escorted to the modiste for fittings.
R.
She read the note twice. The Winter’s End Ball was only a week away. Everything was moving quickly.
Penelope let out a controlled breath. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you are dressed, my lady. Your escort is already assembled in the atrium.”
Of course they were.
Penelope stepped aside. “Help with the lacing?”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maid entered, the door whispering shut behind them. As the girl worked through the ties and buttons, Penelope lifted her chin, spine straightening.
If she was being prepared like a piece to be placed on a board… she would choose how she was seen. Even bait deserved to look like a queen.
Penelope emerged from her chamber dressed and composed, the slate-blue day dress fitting her cleanly, the pelisse draped over her arm. Mingxi was already waiting in the corridor, two steps to the side, posture impeccable.
He did not look at her immediately.
The cadence of her steps, lighter than yesterday but still carrying a trace of fatigue, brought her closer to him, and only then did he turn. His gaze traveled over her briefly, professionally, but his eyes lingered half a heartbeat longer than protocol required.
“Lady Penelope,” he said with a bow of his head. “Your escort is prepared.”
She lifted her chin. “Lead the way.”
The atrium hummed with ward-light as they crossed into it. Two Guardians fell smoothly into formation behind them, glamoured, armed, and silent. This was not a clandestine outing; the Council wanted precision.
A sigil gate spiraled open at Mingxi’s gesture, revealing the upward transport passage, an elegant series of enchantments that carried dignitaries from the Arcaneum sub-levels to discreet exit points throughout Paris.
Penelope stepped into the circle beside him.
The air shimmered. A brief, weightless pull and then… above ground.
Paris.
They emerged within a private salon tucked behind a row of shuttered carriage houses. Outside, morning traffic murmured faintly: wheels on cobblestone; vendors calling; the city alive in a distant, muted hum.
Penelope inhaled, steadying herself. This was her first time above ground since the event.
Mingxi watched her, not intrusively, but with the attentiveness of someone assessing the stability of delicate glass.
“Are you well enough to proceed?” he asked quietly.
She nodded once. “Even if I were not, I would forge on.”
There was no fragility in it. Only resolve.
Mingxi opened the carriage door for her. She stepped inside, settling with composed grace. He entered after her and took the opposite seat, giving her space yet positioned to observe any anomalies through the carriage wards.
