Lucian eased himself backward, step by careful step, eyes fixed on the sleeping figure in the chair. He didn't trust distance unless he made it himself. Seris didn't move. Her breathing stayed smooth and light. It felt unnatural seeing her like this, folded into calm instead of blade-edge rigor.

He didn't turn until he reached the far shelf.

Quenya shimmered into view beside him, only a palm high, her expression pinched with frustration.

"I searched," she murmured. "I checked the room I confirmed belongs to her. Nothing. No box. Nothing that looks hidden either."

Lucian clicked his tongue. "Expected."

He hadn't counted on Seris leaving something that important out in the open. If anything, she would hide it behind something trivial or bury it in some locked recess this house probably had dozens of.

"As long as it isn't tracked," he muttered. "If she kept it close, that's trouble."

Quenya tilted her head. "You want to keep looking?"

He nodded once and moved along the nearest shelf.

The study had an old smell, faint ink and aging paper. The books were arranged with a precision verging on obsessive. Yet when he scanned the titles, he recognized most from the top of his head. Military histories. Regional folklore. Political biographies. Some children's primers, which felt out of place.

Of course I know these. My memories are convenient when they feel like it and useless when it matters.

Why do I remember half the libraries of this country but nothing solid about Seris herself?

He slid his fingers along a row, letting titles pass under his touch. Then he halted.

One book sat alone on its shelf. No neighbors. No dust either.

He pulled it free. A Rose Between Banners.

He knew the name instantly. Anyone breathing in the last decade probably did.It was the sort of popular romance that slipped into council chatter and court gossip.

It followed the love story of Justus Valemont and Dimnah Valemont, Seris's parents. He had the outline lodged in memory: Dimnah belonged to the Droskavell family of Sedron Empire. Justus met her during a campaign. They fell for each other fast and fought half their families to marry. Then something went wrong, and their story ended in tragedy or something similarly bleak.

Vencian didn't read this. But he saw it. The cover didn't look like this, though. This edition had different embossing, different colors. Some private commission, maybe. A version meant for select patrons. Something Seris kept for a reason.

Quenya floated closer. "It's… romantic. Isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

She shrugged. "Two people fighting the world to be together. People like that story, right?"

This world's Romeo and Juliet, he thought. Except with more politics and fewer balconies.

He barely finished that thought when a sharp voice sliced in from behind.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't need to turn to know the voice. He turned anyway, grin in place before he could stop it. Seris stood in the center of the room, awake and rigid, eyes fixed on the book in his hand.

"I was… looking," he said lightly. "This one stood out."

Seris's stare held him for a long moment. Hard to tell if she recognized the book or if she cared that he was touching it.

He lifted it slightly. "I can read this one next. If you want."

She didn't answer. Instead she walked toward him, steps crisp and silent. Lucian braced, muscles tensing. The water channel behind her caught a sliver of lamplight.

She reached out, not for him, but for the book. She took it from his hand with a movement as clean as a blade sliding into a sheath.

"I will tell you what you should read," she said. "Or what you shouldn't."

She returned the book to its shelf, sliding it into place with exact alignment.

While she slid the book back into the row, Lucian's eyes lingered on the spine. He couldn't help thinking about the story inside it, the way everyone had talked about it for years. Justus Valemont and Dimnah Droskavell. A noble from Sedron and a duke of Airantis fighting half their world to stay together. He wondered whether she despised the book or read it in private. If Vencian ever knew the answer, the memory is gone. Same as everything else that matters about her.

Her gaze lingered on him. "Your reading skill is… questionable. It makes me want to reevaluate the recommendation letter by your previous employer. What was their name again?"

"Viscount Daclan," Lucian said.

Seris seemed satisfied. Or at least no longer interested. "Practice more," she said simply.

She took another book from a higher shelf and placed it into his hands. Heavy. Worn. He recognized it at once. Bleak ending. Again.

Of course. She has a pattern. A protagonist who doesn't get a happy ending.

He flipped it open a little, already resigned.

"So… I'm not fired?" he asked.

Seris looked at him as though assessing a chipped object she wasn't done using. "Not for now."

Lucian closed the book slowly.

What a weird girl…

Lucian shifted the book under his arm. A thought pressed in, stubborn and irritating, but it refused to leave. He wasn't sure if asking her counted as bravery or stupidity. Probably both. He cleared his throat.

"Your Grace," he said. "Can I ask something?"

She didn't turn. "I am listening."

He hesitated. "Earlier… when you said my voice carries well. Did you mean it? Or does my voice remind you of someone?"

The regret hit a moment too late. Idiot. He remembered the potion he took each time to shift his tone a fraction lower. Remembered the effort he put into keeping Lucian and Vencian apart. Quenya had already assured him the voices were distinct, but the question crawled in his mind until now.

He watched Seris closely. She didn't give him anything. Her profile stayed unreadable.

"Do not ask pointless questions next time," she said.

He took a breath. "You said you'd answer."

This time she glanced at him. "I agreed to listen. I did not agree to answer. There is a difference."

Her gaze flicked away. "Leave me. You are finished for today."

Lucian bowed his head slightly and turned toward the door. He left without another word. But his spirit didn't sink under her dismissal. It sharpened instead. She's hiding something. And I'll get my answers. All of them, Pentarch, Coriel, the chalice, the thing inside Terin, and whatever Seris is mixed up in.

Some main events were drawing close. The royal engagement would shift half the kingdom. For now, that was his next target.

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