LUCIAN
The council room had long since emptied of courtiers and attendants, leaving only the faint scent of parchment and extinguished candles. Lucian stood by the tall windows, his reflection fractured by the panes of glass. Beyond the stone terrace, the gardens stretched in quiet order, untouched by the intrigue that stained the palace walls.
Behind him, Leopold poured a measure of brandy into two crystal glasses. "You look like a man who has seen too much daylight, Lord Ravenscroft," he said lightly, his tone a mask for the tension beneath it. "A drink, perhaps?"
Lucian turned and accepted the glass. "Thank you. Though I suspect this is not meant for comfort."
Leopold smiled faintly. "Not in this company."
The door opened before either man could speak further. Two guards entered first, followed by the Crown Prince and three of his closest advisors. They were men of old blood and calculated silence, chosen not for loyalty alone but for discretion. When the guards withdrew, the prince took the head of the table.
"Sit," he said simply.
Lucian and Whitcombe obeyed.
The prince set a folded document upon the table and pushed it toward Lucian. "Read this."
Lucian unfolded the paper. The script was neat, written in the hand of a royal courier. His eyes moved quickly across the lines. Each word deepened the chill already building in his chest.
When he looked up, his expression was unreadable. "Montclair is moving faster than expected."
Leopold leaned forward. "How certain is this report?"
"As certain as a man can be when his life depends on it," the Crown Prince replied. He gestured for one of the advisors to continue.
A thin, gray-haired man named Lord Havers inclined his head. "Three days ago, Montclair sent word to his allies in the southern provinces. He has begun consolidating influence among the merchant guilds, offering lowered tariffs in exchange for private loyalties. He intends to weaken the royal treasury by diverting tax revenues through private routes."
Leopold frowned. "He is building a private network beneath the Crown itself."
Lucian's gaze remained fixed on the parchment. "It is more than that. He is preparing leverage. Money buys silence, and silence buys time. If we allow him to root himself deeper, he will control half the council by year's end."
The Crown Prince steepled his fingers. "Then we must act before that happens. But carefully. A single misstep will drive his allies into hiding, and we will lose the chance to expose him."
Leopold set his glass down, the sound sharp in the quiet. "If we strike too softly, he will only grow bolder. The court already whispers that Montclair holds the Crown in his hand."
Lucian looked at him. "Then let them whisper something else."
Leopold raised a brow. "Such as?"
"That Montclair's hand trembles."
The Crown Prince's mouth curved slightly, though his eyes stayed hard. "You have something in mind."
Lucian nodded. "Information. Not rumor, not suspicion. Proof. He hides his dealings behind proxies and favors, but no web is perfect. Someone near him keeps his accounts. Someone writes the letters he dares not seal with his own hand."
Lord Havers spoke again. "We have tried to trace those letters. Every courier vanishes before reaching the capital."
Lucian took a slow drink, then set the glass aside. "That is because you are looking for the wrong couriers. Montclair does not trust strangers. He uses familiar hands. His private secretary, perhaps, or a family retainer. Someone who knows how to disappear in plain sight."
Leopold tilted his head. "And you believe you can find this person?"
Lucian's eyes met the prince's. "I already have a name. Varrow."
The Crown Prince leaned forward slightly. "Varrow served the former Queen and Montclair once, did he not?"
"He did," Lucian said. "Until Montclair dismissed him under the guise of corruption. In truth, Varrow discovered discrepancies in the Duke's trade ledgers. He was silenced, not ruined. I sent word to him last night."
The prince considered this. "If he is willing to speak, he could give us everything we need."
Lucian's tone was cool. "He will speak. He only needs assurance that what he gives will not be buried."
The Crown Prince rose and walked toward the fire. The orange light reflected in his eyes as he spoke. "You understand what you are asking. To move against Montclair is to move against half the nobility. He will not hesitate to turn them all against you."
Lucian's voice was quiet but firm. "I have no fear of him, only of what he might do to those who cannot defend themselves."
Whitcombe glanced between them. "Meaning Lady Everleigh."
Lucian did not answer, but his silence was enough.
The Crown Prince turned, the firelight outlining his profile. "Then let us make this clear. From this moment, whatever actions we take against Montclair must remain unseen. The court will not know our hand in it. You will report only to me. Baron Whitcombe will provide logistical support, and Lord Havers will handle the treasury's end. You, Lucian, will oversee the gathering of evidence."
Lucian inclined his head. "As you command."
The Crown Prince's gaze softened slightly. "You are playing a dangerous game, Ravenscroft. Do not mistake courage for recklessness."
"I understand, Your Highness."
Leopold gave a low sigh. "Montclair will suspect soon enough. He has too many ears in the palace. If we begin to move pieces, he will notice the board shifting."
Lucian looked toward the window. The moon had begun to rise, pale and thin against the dark sky. "Then we move in silence. A game he cannot see, even when it unfolds around him."
Leopold smirked. "I suppose that is your specialty."
Lucian allowed himself a faint smile. "I have spent years learning from the best."
The prince returned to his seat, the brief hint of humor fading. "Montclair's ambition has grown beyond his place. He has forgotten that loyalty to the Crown is not a choice. We will remind him."
Lord Havers nodded. "What of his allies in the council? If we strike him directly, they will scatter and regroup elsewhere."
Lucian shook his head. "We will not strike him directly, not yet. We will isolate him. Quietly. One by one, his allies will find their fortunes faltering, their debts recalled, their contracts questioned. They will distance themselves before realizing why. When he finally reaches for them, he will find no one left to answer his call."
The Crown Prince's eyes glimmered with quiet approval. "You mean to make him a ghost before he ever falls."
"Exactly," Lucian said.
For a moment, the room fell silent except for the soft hiss of the fire. Each man seemed to weigh the risk against the reward. Finally, the prince raised his glass. "To discretion, then. And to the Crown."
Leopold lifted his own. "And to the man foolish enough to provoke us."
Lucian's glass joined theirs with a quiet clink. "To the beginning."
They drank in silence.
When the meeting ended, Lucian stepped out into the corridor. The palace was hushed, its torches burning low. The marble floor reflected the faint light as he walked, his mind already turning over the next steps.
He would meet Varrow before dawn and confirm his loyalty. The man's knowledge could expose the network Montclair had built over the years. It was not enough to discredit him publicly; Montclair had to be cut off from the veins of power that fed his influence.
At the far end of the corridor, Leopold caught up to him. "You truly intend to take this risk, do you?"
Lucian slowed his pace. "There is no other choice."
Leopold regarded him with a look that held both admiration and warning. "Montclair will not forgive this. If he senses even a whisper of betrayal, he will come for you. And for her."
Lucian stopped. His expression did not change, but his eyes darkened. "Then he will find me waiting."
Leopold gave a low laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "You sound almost confident. I hope your faith in this plan is as strong as it sounds."
"It is not faith," Lucian said quietly. "It is a necessity."
They walked together toward the outer courtyard, where the night air felt sharp and alive. The stars shimmered above the palace towers, cold and distant.
Leopold turned to leave, but Lucian remained still for a moment, staring toward the horizon. Somewhere beyond those walls, Evelina slept unaware of the storm gathering around her. He would not let it touch her.
He reached into his coat and drew out a small parchment, the same one bearing Varrow's name. Beneath it, he had written a single phrase in his own hand: Begin quietly.
Folding it once, he slipped it back into his coat and started down the steps. The sound of his boots echoed against the stone, steady and sure.
Tomorrow, the game will begin. And for the first time, Montclair would not be the one pulling the strings.