The Imperial Auditors arrived at dawn. They weren't soldiers, but in the world of finance, they were more terrifying than a dragon. Three men in stiff, grey robes carrying mahogany cases filled with specialized abacuses and "Truth-Seeker" ink—a magical substance that turned red if it touched a forged signature.
Prince Kaelen stood behind them, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me like a hawk waiting for a rabbit to bolt.
"Lady Elara," the lead auditor said, his voice like dry parchment. "We are here to verify the Lexen accounts. Please provide all ledgers from the last five years immediately."
I stood in the center of the dusty library, wearing my most "distressed" looking shawl. "Of course. Though I must warn you, the previous bookkeeper was... let's say, 'mathematically challenged.' It's quite the mess."
Hans, my butler, brought out the stacks of books I had stayed up all night "preparing."
As the auditors began their work, the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, punctuated only by the scratching of quills.
Two hours in, the lead auditor frowned. "My Lady, there is a discrepancy. According to the grain export logs from three years ago, there should be an extra eight hundred thousand gold dragons in the reserve. The vault, however, is nearly empty."
I didn't blink. "Ah, yes. The Great Weevil Blight of '23. Most of the grain rotted in the silos. We had to buy emergency supplies at triple the price. It's all there on page forty-two, under 'Unforeseen Biological Catastrophes.'"
I had spent four hours last night artificially aging that page with tea bags and a candle to make it look three years old.
The auditor touched the "Truth-Seeker" ink to the entry. It remained a steady, boring black.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. God bless tea-staining.
Kaelen stepped forward, his eyes narrowed at the books. "And the Lexen stallions? The Crown's records say this estate is famous for its cavalry. I saw only three horses yesterday."
"A tragic outbreak of 'Equine Gout,'" I said, wiping a fake tear. "We had to sell the healthy ones to pay for the medicine for the sick ones. Alas, they didn't make it. It was... heartbreaking."
Kaelen walked over to me, leaning down so only I could hear him. "You're very good at tragedy, Elara. But 'Equine Gout' isn't a real disease."
"It is in this province," I whispered back. "Our grass is very rich in purines."
The audit continued until the sun began to set. Every time they found a hole, I had a "logical" (if slightly ridiculous) explanation ready. I was using every trick in the corporate playbook: depreciation, amortization, and creative loss-shifting.
But then, the youngest auditor—a man with glasses and a too-sharp memory—gasped.
"Sir! Look at the binding of this ledger. There's a hidden seam."
My blood turned to ice. It was the "Silver Widow" ledger. The one I hadn't finished sanitizing.
The lead auditor took a small knife and sliced the binding. A thin, dark blue booklet fell out. He opened it, his eyes widening. "This... this is a southern bank record. Account name: The Silver Widow. Current balance: Five million gold dragons."
Kaelen's head snapped toward me. The air in the room suddenly felt like it was charged with lightning.
"Five million?" Kaelen's voice was a low growl. "That's more than the entire debt owed to the Crown."
The auditors looked at me. Kaelen looked at me. Even the dust motes in the air seemed to stop moving.
I had two choices: Confess and go to the guillotine, or double down on the crazy.
I let out a loud, theatrical sob and threw myself into a chair. "Oh, thank heavens! You found it!"
Kaelen blinked, his hand pausing on his sword hilt. "What?"
"My mother's secret shame!" I cried into my handkerchief. "She was a gambling addict! She hid that money away so my father wouldn't spend it on his mistresses! I've been searching for that account for months to pay back the Crown, but I couldn't find the password!"
"The password?" the auditor asked, confused.
"Yes! The southern banks require a magical pass-phrase!" I looked at Kaelen, my eyes wide and pleading. "Your Highness, now that you've found the book, the Crown can seize it! Please, take it! Take the 'Widow's' money and clear our debt!"
Kaelen picked up the blue booklet. He looked at the account details, then back at my tear-streaked face.
He knew I was lying. I knew he knew.
But legally? If I "voluntarily" gave the Crown a hidden account I "just found," I wasn't an embezzler anymore. I was a "cooperative witness."
"Hans!" I shouted. "Bring the Prince some wine! We must celebrate the discovery of my mother's secret gambling stash!"
Late that night, after the auditors had left with the blue booklet, Kaelen found me in the garden.
"You gave me five million gold," he said, standing in the moonlight. "The exact amount needed to save your neck."
"I'm a patriot, Your Highness," I said, sipping a glass of wine.
"You're a shark," he corrected, stepping closer. "That account wasn't your mother's. It was yours. And I suspect that 'five million' was only half of what you actually have hidden."
I smiled over the rim of my glass. "A lady never tells her net worth, Kaelen."
He reached out, his fingers brushing my chin. "You think you've won. You think because the debt is paid, I'll leave."
"Won't you?"
"No," he whispered, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Now that I know how much you're worth... I think I'll stay for the whole summer. I want to see what else you're hiding in those 'cabbages'."
I nearly choked on my wine. The whole summer?! My private island plans were moving further and further away.
"Well," I squeaked. "I hope you like cabbage. We have... a lot of it."