"You're lying."
Lucien's voice cut through the council chamber like a blade. Cold. Controlled. But the rage beneath it simmered, barely contained.
"I'm not," the guard replied, jaw clenched. "I saw her myself. Near the east wing fire post. She wasn't supposed to be there."
"And you didn't think to report it?" Rhett demanded, stepping forward, eyes blazing.
"She said she was delivering scrolls," the guard stammered. "She wore Camille's old insignia. No one stopped her."
Savannah folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "Camille hasn't worn that seal in months."
Lucien turned back to the table, where the stolen communication sat unrolled, ink still fresh. It had been intercepted less than an hour ago, buried in the servant quarters under a floorboard. A coded message. Written in wolf-tongue runes, hidden inside what looked like a supply log.
The translation was damning.
