The Royal Archives smelled of old paper, dry rot, and the sharp tang of preservation spells. It was Maya's favorite place in the entire kingdom, mostly because it was the only place where the problems were written down and usually had solutions in the index.
But the scroll in her hand didn't have a solution. It barely made sense.
"Section 4, Row B," Maya muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. "Guard Duty Rosters. Month of the Red Moon."
She had stayed late, long after Erika had gone to bed dreaming of farmboys. Maya couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Vane's attack had been too precise. He hadn't just bombed the castle; he had flown straight to the Queen's bedroom window—a window that looked identical to a dozen others from the outside.
She unrolled the roster for the night of the Festival.
Her finger traced the patrol lines.
"The East Wall... heavy patrol. The Main Gate... triple guard. The West Wing..."
Maya frowned.
The West Wing—where the Queen's secure quarters were located—had been marked as 'Clearing/Maintenance'. The usual elite sentries had been reassigned to the lower courtyard for crowd control.
"That's impossible," Maya whispered. "Why would you strip the guards from the Queen's safe room on the busiest night of the year?"
She pulled another map—the architectural blueprints. She overlaid the patrol route. It left a perfect, unguarded corridor straight to Erika's window.
"He knew," Maya realized, a cold chill settling in her stomach. "Vane didn't use dark magic to find her. He had a map."
She grabbed the roster again. At the bottom, where the Captain of the Guard usually signed, there was a signature. But it was smudged, illegible.
"Who authorized this transfer?" she asked the empty aisle.
"Talking to dust mites again, girl?"
Maya jumped, nearly dropping the scroll.
Standing at the end of the aisle, holding a stack of fresh parchment, was Thomas. He was a junior scribe, a nervous young man with ink-stained fingers and thick spectacles who had helped her find the tax records last week.
"Thomas," Maya breathed, clutching the scroll to her chest. "You scared me."
"You're in the restricted section," Thomas pointed out, adjusting his glasses. "Lord Blake ordered these files sealed for the investigation."
"Investigation?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "I thought the official report said Vane used 'dark divination' to find the Queen."
Thomas looked around nervously. He lowered his voice, stepping into the pool of light cast by Maya's candle. "That's what the report says. But between you and me... I saw the initial draft. There was a note about a missing signal flare. And..." He hesitated, biting his lip.
"And what?" Maya stepped closer. "Thomas, if you know something..."
"I saw him," Thomas whispered, his eyes wide behind the lenses. "Lord Blake. The night of the attack. The protocol says the Advisor must remain in the Deep Bunker until the All-Clear is sounded. But I was running messages... and I saw him leaving the bunker before the first cannon fired."
Maya's heart hammered against her ribs. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Thomas nodded vigorously. "He was wearing a cloak, but I saw his ring. The silver serpent. He was heading toward the Smuggler's Tunnels. He looked... calm. Like he knew the fire was coming."
Maya looked at the roster in her hand. The guards moved away. The secret room revealed. The Advisor sneaking out before the attack.
It wasn't just incompetence. It was treason.
"Thomas," Maya said urgently. "You need to tell the Queen. Or Conrad."
"I can't!" Thomas looked terrified. "If I'm wrong... it's treason to accuse the Royal Advisor. I'd lose my head."
"If you're right," Maya said grimly, "and you say nothing, we might all lose our heads next time. Blake is the one writing the reports, Thomas. He's covering his tracks."
Thomas swallowed hard. He looked at the scroll in Maya's hand, then at the door. "Okay. Okay. I'll... I'll draft a formal statement. But not here. It's too open. Meet me on the East Walkway at sunset tomorrow. It's quiet there. I'll bring the logbook from the bunker door to prove he left early."
"Sunset," Maya agreed. "Be careful, Thomas."
The next evening, the sunset painted the castle walls in shades of bruised purple and blood orange.
The East Walkway was a high, narrow bridge connecting the Archives to the Astronomy Tower. It was currently under repair, lined with scaffolding and loose stones.
Thomas stood by the railing, clutching a leather-bound book to his chest. He was sweating, pacing back and forth.
"He's late," Thomas muttered. "She's late."
"Punctuality is a virtue, Thomas."
Thomas yelped, spinning around.
Lord Blake stepped out from the shadow of a gargoyle. He didn't look like a man caught in a lie. He looked serene, his hands clasped behind his back in his black robes.
"Lord Blake!" Thomas stammered, backing up until his heels hit the stone railing. "I... I was just... enjoying the view."
"It is a beautiful view," Blake agreed, walking closer. "A perfect night for stargazing. Or for sharing secrets."
He looked at the book in Thomas's hands.
"Is that the Bunker Log?" Blake asked softly.
Thomas trembled. "I... I found a discrepancy, My Lord. I thought... for the archives..."
"A discrepancy," Blake smiled. It was a calm, gentle smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "You have a sharp eye, Thomas. And a loose tongue. I hear you've been telling stories to the village girl. Stories about seeing things you shouldn't have seen."
Thomas turned pale. "I... it was a mistake. I saw nothing. I swear."
"I believe you," Blake nodded. He stopped a foot away from the boy. "The eyes can be tricky in the dark. Shadows play games. But the tongue... the tongue is a dangerous muscle. It wags when it should lie still."
"I won't say a word," Thomas pleaded, tears forming in his eyes. "Please."
Blake reached out and gently placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder.
"I know you won't," Blake whispered. "Loyalty is paramount, Thomas. And the ultimate loyalty... is silence."
Blake didn't push him. He simply tapped the stone railing Thomas was leaning against with his ring finger.
The mortar, which had been carefully dissolved with a mild alchemical acid solution an hour ago, crumbled instantly.
The stone railing gave way.
Thomas screamed. He flailed, dropping the book, grabbing at empty air.
He fell.
There was a long, terrifying silence, followed by a sickening thud on the cobblestones of the courtyard far below.
Blake looked down. He watched the broken form of the scribe for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Tragic," Blake murmured to the wind. "Loose masonry. The repairs are so dangerous these days."
He picked up the fallen bunker logbook. He dusted it off, tucked it under his arm, and turned to leave.
As he walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance, a shadow peeled itself away from the wall of the Astronomy Tower, just around the corner.
Maya stood there, her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a scream. Tears streamed down her face. She had arrived two minutes late. Two minutes.
She had seen the railing break. She had seen Blake standing there. She had seen him verify the kill.
She waited until she was sure he was gone. Then, she slid down the wall, her legs giving out.
She wasn't a warrior like Arthur. She wasn't a royal like Erika. She was just a girl who was good at math. And the math was terrifying.
There was a killer in the castle. And he was standing right beside the throne.