The evening light in the library was amber and thick, filtered through the frost on the high windows. Maja sat at her small table, her spine rigid. She was looking at the silver mirror Elara had given her. To Maja, it wasn't a gift; it was a bribe, or perhaps a tracking device. She kept her hands busy with the ledgers, her fingers tracing the ink with a mechanical, cold precision.
Caspian was at his desk. For the last hour, he had been watching her—a steady, heavy weight of attention that made the scars of her past itch beneath her tunic. "My sister is rarely moved to charity," he said, his voice flat. "Giving you that mirror was her way of acknowledging you. In this house, that is a currency more valuable than the silver itself."
Maja dipped her pen into the inkwell, her hand steady. "Then she wasted her money. I'm not here to be 'acknowledged.' I'm here to balance your books so your mother doesn't feel the need to throw me back to the Princess."
Caspian stepped into the light of her lamp. "Is that all this is to you? A stay of execution?"
"It's a contract, My Lord," Maja said, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes were as cold as the frost on the glass. "I provide the labor, you provide the safety. Don't mistake my competence for gratitude. Gratitude is a luxury for people who aren't wondering where their next meal is coming from." Caspian stood stiffly. He didn't walk toward the door to leave. He walked toward her table, stopping just on the edge of her lamplight. "She said something else. That Ssyelman women are fire and daggers."
He leaned down, resting his palms on the table, forcing Maja to finally look up. His face was half-shadowed, his blue eyes catching the orange glow of the hearth. "I've seen the fire. You nearly took the door off its hinges for your daughter. But I'm still looking for the dagger."
"I don't need a blade to protect myself, My Lord," Maja whispered.
Caspian's jaw tightened. He didn't lean in. He didn't reach for her. He stood like a statue of ice, his arms crossed over his chest. "I've spent my life leading men who would die for a nod of my head. I find your... 'contractual' outlook refreshing, if a bit grim."
"Grim is what happens when the man you love sells your winter coat for a flagon of ale while you're holding his child," Maja said, her voice dropping to a low, jagged rasp. It was the first time she'd alluded to Nadin, and the air in the room seemed to freeze. "So, forgive me if I don't swoon because your sister gave me a toy."
Caspian didn't offer pity. He knew instinctively that Maja would hate him for it. Instead, he tapped the ledger she was working on. "If you're so focused on the contract, then fulfill it. Tell me why the numbers for the warehouse don't match the shipments."
Maja didn't hesitate. She pointed to a specific line of figures. "Because your guards are clever, but they aren't traders. They're skimming small amounts of grain and salt—enough to be missed, but not enough to trigger a formal audit. They're betting on your 'Northern Honor' preventing you from suspecting your own men."
Caspian looked at the entry, his eyes narrowing as he processed the betrayal. "Harl," he muttered. "He's been with us for six years."
"Then he's been stealing for at least three," Maja replied, closing the book with a definitive thud.
Caspian looked at her then—not as a woman, but as a strategic asset he hadn't fully accounted for. "Tomorrow morning. We ride to the warehouse. You'll show me exactly where the gaps are in the physical inventory."
"And if the guards decide to silence the 'Ssyelman rat' who found them out?" Maja asked, her voice devoid of fear, replaced only by a cold, calculating logic.
"Then they will be dealing with a Lord of Vaelenridge," Caspian said, his voice turning into the same hard iron as the mountains. "Not a grain merchant. My mother bought your life, Maja. That makes it my responsibility to protect the investment. Nothing more, nothing less."
Maja didn't swoon. She didn't feel safe. She just looked at him with a chilling, hollow smile. "That's what the last man said, right before he stepped aside to let the wind hit me. Don't make promises you don't intend to keep, Lord Caspian. It makes the betrayal so much louder."
She stood up, gathered her things, and walked out of the library without looking back, leaving him standing in the shadows of
his own history.