“Oh, good. I’m so glad you’re awake,” someone said across the room.
Lucille appeared beside her and pressed a warm cup of tea into her hands, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing with concern.
Nin pushed herself upright and took a careful sip. The heat spread through her chest, easing the pounding in her skull. Beside her, Bijou curled close and rested her small head against Nin’s leg.
“I don’t remember going to bed,” Nin murmured.
Lucille frowned. “No, I doubt you would remember anything.”
She set the tea down on the nightstand beside her. “What happened?”
Lucille hesitated, her mouth opening and then closing, as if she couldn’t decide what to tell her.
The concealed door opened, and Cedric strode inside, his expression grave. Once his eyes landed on her, they softened.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly, stopping next to Lucille.
Nin pulled the covers to her chest. Confusion clashed with the warmth filling her at his gentle expression. The concern shrouding the air was too palpable—too alarming.
“I—what happened?” she asked again, fearing the possibilities of what filled the void in her memories.
A muscle in Cedric’s jaw ticked. “Someone used Silent Breath on you.”
Her eyes rounded. She’d heard of the drug before but had never seen it in action. It was corrupted magic, defiling the Maker’s Breath. Rumors circulated that criminals used it onunsuspecting travelers or merchants—stealing what they wanted without a trace. But it had always sounded like a myth, or a scary story told to keep children safe.
“What—how?” she asked.
“We were hoping you would have some idea,” he said, arms folded.
Lucille tutted. “Let the girl breathe.”
His eager look shifted back to her, while Nin delved into her memories. “There was a man, I think…” she said, remembering a vague outline of someone who had approached her. “It was when I went around the pillar—”
“Why did you leave the crowd?” Cedric cut in.
Shame flared. She crossed her arms, mirroring him. “I was just trying to get a macaron! I’ve always wanted to try one.”
Lucille shot Cedric a look. He inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes before he regarded Nin once more.
“We almost lost you. The assailant didn’t even have to touch you,” Cedric continued, his voice low and guarded. “There was no weapon or struggle.” His dark eyes bore into her, demanding she understand the weight of his words. “It would have looked like you jumped.”
An icy sensation tightened around her core.
She had almost died.
His silence seemed to mirror her thoughts, with his quiet regard on her to ensure she was still present.
“But why would the Silver Flame want the assassination to be a secret?” she asked. Why wouldn’t they want the princess’s death tosend a message?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he said. “I have a suspicion the Silver Flame is only a puppet—or a red herring—in this plot. Someone must be using them to disguise who the real assailant is.”
Nin straightened, her thoughts racing. “Do you think it could be Princess Adelina?”
“I don’t know,” he said with an edge of exasperation tinging his voice. “I know you have your suspicions, but I don’t have enough evidence to pin it on her.”
Lucille pulled a chair to sit close to her bedside. “Is there a reason you seem adamant that it could be Princess Adelina?”
“I suppose… I don’t have enough proof either,” Nin admitted. “But I can’t help feeling she doesn’t want me in the picture anymore. She doesn’t want me marrying Rodrigue.”
