Page 79

“Exactly.”

“What about the originals?”

I reroll them with careful hands. “Back where they were. If he checks, nothing appears disturbed.”

“And if he asks whether you found anything?”

“I found what he wanted me to find.”

Mira’s face tightens. “Which is?”

“That Corin responds to threat, that I alter his instability, and that the public ritual may confirm both if engineered correctly.”

“You are going to hand him that?”

“I am going to hand him enough truth to protect the lie.”

“I liked you better when your crimes were smaller.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She gives me a grim little smile. “No, I didn’t.”

I leave the archive with my folio in hand and dust on my cuffs, following the blue-white lamp corridor toward the mirror gallery. Each step feels measured by invisible eyes. The bond remains quiet but alert, a line stretching out toward wherever Corin is now, and I wonder if he feels my fear through it or if he only feels the shape of my resolve.

Vaerith waits in the gallery with three mirrors awake behind him.

One shows the north registry courtyard, where workers are already erecting temporary ward posts and witness rails. One shows the lower market, crowded and unsuspecting. The third shows nothing but darkness, though I suspect it is listening in some way mirrors should not.

“My lord,” I say.

He does not turn immediately. “You have begun your assessment?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I open the folio and remove a single page, the one I prepared to be true enough. “The hybrid appears threat-reactive rather than indiscriminately predatory.”

Vaerith’s shoulders shift slightly. Interest. “Meaning?”

“His surges intensify under perceived threat pressure, especially where civilians or selected individuals are endangered. Proximity alone does not produce equivalent escalation.”

“Selected individuals,” he repeats.

I keep my eyes on the page. “He intervened when I was approached by Talen. He intervened again during the street incident.”

“Attachment point.”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly,” he echoes, amused. “You do cling to caution.”

“It is one of my few virtues.”

“That is not true, Isolde. You have several.”

Compliments from Vaerith feel like silk restraints.