A brief flash of surprise crossed Adelina’s face, quickly followed by a dry, humorless chuckle. “You dare accuseme? Based on what—a claim? Gossip from servants?”
Nin stepped forward, “We found a letter in your room under the floorboards.” She held up the note. “With your seal.”
“You’re tearing up my floor?” Adelina seethed, snatching the letter and opening it. She briefly scanned the contents, her brow furrowing deeper into her skull.
Her eyes narrowed, extending the note out. “That’s not my hand. I would never order someone to do something so terrible to my cousin.”
The air grew heavy and still as he considered her. Her mouth’s slight pull showed disgust, not deceit, and she could not feign the slight tremor down her arm. Rain, slow and steady, pattered against the windows; thunder growled low in the distance.
“Your Highness?”
They all turned to the door where Ambassador Otto Dennhardt kept one pale hand on the golden handle. His eyes flicked across Cedric, the note in Adelina’s hand, and the loose floorboard behind them.
Otto swept in, his calm demeanor stretched over the room like ice sealing water—cold and austere.
“What is happening here?” he asked coolly.
“Explain this,” Adelina demanded, waving the note toward him. “Why is my seal being used to send orders I never gave?”
A muscle twitched in Otto’s jaw as he leveled his gaze at Cedric. “It seems the captain has overstepped.”
“We followed the trail here,” Cedric replied, his tone controlled. “It is within my jurisdiction.”
“In doing so, you risk a scandal. This should be handled discreetly with the king’s seal, should it not?” Otto replied.
Cedric noticed a hint of unease beneath his carefully constructed veneer. He turned and grabbed another note from the shallow compartment and opened it. The note instructed Pierre to steal one of Princess Marianne’s bottles of perfume. The handwriting was rigid and bureaucratic, the flourishes forced rather than natural.
Cedric’s brow furrowed, focusing on the parchment rather than its contents next. It was thinner than paper from the courts and possessed a smoother texture under his thumb. The moonlight glinted off a faint raven watermark.
He had seen that document in embassy correspondence from Ehrenmark’s ambassadors…
Nin leaned in to read over his shoulder. Then she straightened and fixed Otto with a look of pure disdain.
“Maybe start by explaining why this letter with your princess’s seal was hidden beneath the floorboards.”
Cedric stiffened beside her, casting her a warning glance.
Otto smiled, thin and pointed. “How am I to know why Her Highness has sealed notes in her private quarters?”
Cedric turned the note in his direction, pointing at the elegant script. “The writing is too stiff, too practiced. It reads like a directive, not a princess’s hand. This is also embassy paper—the kind used for diplomatic messages.”
Adelina’s head snappedbetween them. “What!”
“Someone was trying to forge your writing, Your Highness,” Cedric continued. “And only an ambassador would use such paper.”
Otto’s hand flexed by his side as Adelina’s mouth parted.
“The servant who carried the poison said he was instructed to watch Princess Marianne carefully.” Nin added. “That means someone is also watching her guard’s every step.”
“What does that prove?” Otto asked calmly. The diaphanous curtains fluttered, casting shadows over the man’s stony face.
“It’s confirmation,” Cedric said, his fingers tightening over the letter, “that you anticipated where we would search.”
Adelina turned to Otto. “Why would there be notes under my floors, and how would they know to look there?” she demanded. “You told me you’d take care of things, that you wouldhelpme.”
“I am helping you,” Otto said, “I told you it would all come together in due time.”
“Help you with what?” Cedric asked.
