He pulled a small piece of paper from his sleeve and dropped it onto the floor.
Lucy froze as the stones beneath them shuddered. A low rumble vibrated up her boots and into her bones. The air tingled sharply, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. One by one, stone steps unfolded from the floor, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle.
Lucy’s humor evaporated. This was not parlor magic. This was infrastructure.
She had never seen a key rune used in person. She knew the basics—they looked simple—but their execution required theprecision of a master. One wrong placement, even a hair off, and the mechanism could collapse.
Which meant every wall and every section of this hallway had been built with runes. If Brom had misaligned even one of them while activating the passage, the ceiling could have crushed them all. Precision like that wasn’t luck. It was preparation layered on obsession.
A cold sweat prickled down her spine. Lucy quietly rescinded every internal insult she had made about Brom in the past five minutes. She respected people who earned fear honestly.
Brom was terrifying.
25
Lucy
How to find joy: treasure noble discomfort like it is fine art.
The Brass Sparrow headquarters was not a decrepit goat farm. Well, technically, it was above ground. Below, it was bigger than the palace library. At least, it was larger than the palace library in her imagination.
Lucy had never been allowed inside the palace library because maids didn’t need access to “delicate literature.” Esther had tried to sneak her in when they were young, but the princess did not have enough power to get a ‘mere maid’ past the guards.
Lucy remembered Esther’s furious whispering, the way she’d tried to argue rules into changing. It hadn’t worked. Rules are rarely bent for the people they hurt.
The moment Brom pushed the door open, Lucy’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
A chandelier hung from the ceiling. Having lived in the castle for nearly a decade, Lucy could spot expensive decorations from a mile away—and that chandelier was expensive. The kind nobles pretended to be "simple” and “tasteful” while secretly bragging about it.
The entire space opened into a lavish hall: plush carpets, tall bookshelves, polished marble floors, and tapestries that looked handwoven by someone who didn’t hate their life.
“Wha—?” Lucy croaked. “Where did the goats go?”
The Baroness pressed a trembling hand to her chest, looking personally offended by the change in scenery. Lucy catalogued the reaction carefully. Shock. Disorientation. Loss of footing. She savored it like a well-executed painting.
“I am confused. And I dislike being confused. Someone explain this immediately.”
Lucy never thought there would be a day she agreed with the Baroness, but here she was. She’d never admit it, though.
Basil cleared his throat. “The Brass Sparrow prefers... discretion.”
Lucy ran to the front door and poked her head out. “It’s a shack on the outside,” she said. The scent of farm animals gave way to the smell of ale and something metallic. Exactly what one might expect a back alley to smell like.
“More like a crime on the outside,” the Baroness grumbled, shutting the door.
“And apparently a palace on the inside,” Lucy muttered.
Brom waved them over to the lounge area, his demeanor far too chipper for someone who lived in a crypt-like tunnel system.
“So,” he said, slapping a stack of papers onto a glossy table, “tell me what kind of mess you’re knee-deep in. If it’s royal, political, or involves improbable property destruction, that’s my specialty.”
Lucy and Basil exchanged a look—it was definitely the first two. The property damage was yet to be determined, but it was highly likely, given Esther's involvement.
Basil gave Brom the short version: Princess missing, teleportation spell, Lucy’s flawless improvisation skills, and finally, the King assigned Basil to track Esther down.
Brom listened with a slow-building grin. Then leaned back in his chair. Then groaned into his hands.
“Oh, that’s a disaster,” he said cheerfully. “You’re going to need Sylva.”
