I hadn't even finished walking back from the archive when a pageboy sprinted past, breathless.
"Urgent! Second concubine collapsed in her powder room! They need a tester, quickly!"
He didn't look at me. But I stepped forward anyway.
"I'm free."
He hesitated then nodded and led me down the corridor.
They didn't call for the royal physician. Not yet.
That meant they were trying to keep this quiet.
I arrived to find the concubine pale, eyes fluttering, lips flushed in a way that didn't match her usual rouge. The serving girls knelt around her, whispering prayers.
She'd had no wine. No cakes.
Just a cup of pear blossom tea.
And a sliver of salted plum.
"Where's the tea set?" I asked.
One girl pointed then flinched, as if even speaking might cost her.
I checked the cup. A faint residue clung to the bottom. Too faint for the usual poisons. But enough for someone like me to catch a hint of belladonna.
Diluted. Cunning. Cruel.
The same pattern as the last case.
I bent low to whisper to the unconscious woman, just loud enough that the maids would overhear.
"Sleep for now, Second Lady. I'll find the root that cursed your tea."
If this was another message someone playing with subtlety they were getting bolder.
And messier.
But then, as I stepped back… one of the maids slipped. Her sleeve pulled at the tea tray.
A fine red silk thread unraveled from beneath it.
My stomach turned cold.
The same thread from the archive shelf.
Which meant…
Whoever stole Volume 84 had also touched this tray.
Two paths opened before me:
Follow the illness and quietly inspect the concubine's daily meals, servants, and medicine.
Or return to the archive trail, find the ledger's next possible hiding place and chase the silk thread deeper.
And I could only do one before the other went cold.