Theron stood in the empty intelligence office; three dossiers spread across his desk. Each one represented a potential traitor; someone who had known about the assassination operation and could have warned Thorne.

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Outside, snow fell silently over the palace. Inside, Theron felt the cold in his bones.

The first name was Commander Voss.

It made Theron’s stomach turn. Voss had served the crown for twenty years. He had fought beside Kael at the border, taken a blade for Aeron during the conspiracy, protected Seren with his life in the north. But he had also been in Seren’s camp when the warning was sent. He had access to messengers. He could have sent a rider north without anyone noticing.

But does he have personal motives? None that Theron could see. Voss had no family to threaten, no debts, no secret allegiances. His entire existence was the crown. If Voss was the traitor, then the world had gone mad.

The second name was Lysa.

Theron almost burned this dossier out of guilt. Seren’s best friend. The most loyal human in the palace. The woman who had stood by Seren when everyone else saw her as a servant to be used and discarded. But Lysa had also been in Seren’s camp when the assassination was planned. She had access to Seren’s tent, to her private conversations, to the maps and timetables spread across the war table.

She could have overheard details and passed them to someone. Not out of malice, never out of malice. But what if someone threatened her family? What if she was coerced? What if she didn’t even know she was being used?

The third name was Lady Sera.

This one made the most sense on paper. Sera had been an enemy. She had only recently allied with the crown, and their alliance was built on pragmatism, not trust. She had her own intelligence network, separate from Theron’s. She had eastern contacts who could have reached Thorne through the mountain passes. And she had her motives: if the north remained unstable, her eastern provinces would gain more autonomy from the crown. Chaos in the north meant power for the east.

But something about it felt too neat. Too obvious.

Theron rubbed his eyes. He had been awake for thirty hours. The dossiers blurred together.

"None of them feel right," he muttered.

The door opened. Aeron entered, his face drawn, shadows under his eyes. He had not been sleeping either.

"Any progress?"

"Three suspects. No proof." Theron gestured to the dossiers. "Voss, Lysa, Sera."

Aeron picked up Voss’s file. He read it in silence, then set it down. "Voss would die for Seren. You know that."

"I know. But I can’t rule him out based on feelings. The facts..."

"The facts don’t matter if the premise is wrong." Aeron’s voice was quiet but firm. "We’re looking for someone who wanted Thorne alive. Someone who benefits from the north staying unstable. Voss benefits from stability. He’s a soldier. He wants the war over."

"You’re that certain?"

Aeron set down the file. "I trust Voss. The same way I trust Kael. The same way I trust you. If we start doubting everyone, the traitor has already won."

Theron sighed. "Then we’re left with Lysa and Sera."

"Both unlikely."

"Unlikely isn’t impossible." Theron stood and walked to the window. Snow was falling over the palace gardens, blanketing the hedges in white. "Lysa loves Seren. But love makes people do strange things. What if someone threatened her family? Her mother still lives in the city. Her younger brother works as a porter. Either of them could be used as leverage."

"Investigate. But quietly." Aeron moved to stand beside him. "If Lysa is being coerced, she may not even know she’s passing information. We need to find the handler, not the tool."

"And Sera?"

"Sera is the obvious choice. Which makes me think she’s not the traitor. The real traitor would want us looking at her." Aeron’s reflection stared back from the dark glass. "Someone is playing a long game. They want the north unstable, the court divided, and us distracted."

Theron turned from the window. "Then we’re looking for someone we haven’t considered. Someone who appears loyal. Someone we trust."

"Someone in the inner circle."

"Yes."

They stood in silence, watching the snow fall.

.

.

.

Two hours later, Theron received a message from one of his agents in the north.

The agent had been tracking Thorne’s escape route. He had found something: a message cache hidden in a hollow tree near the assassination site. Inside were letters exchanged between Thorne and someone in the palace.

The letters were coded. Complex ciphers that would take days to break. But the agent had also found a scrap of paper; a corner torn from a larger document, with a single name written in hurried script.

Theron read it three times.

His blood went cold.

Then he held the scrap over the candle flame and watched it burn. The paper curled, blackened, turned to ash.

He needed proof before he acted. One name on a scrap of paper was not enough. Not for what he was about to do. Not against *them*.

.

.

That night, Theron visited Lady Sera’s quarters.

She was alone, sharpening her dagger by candlelight. The same dagger she had used at the border. The same blade that had tasted northern blood. She didn’t look up when he entered.

"I’ve been expecting you," she said.

"Have you?"

"My name is on your list. I know how intelligence works." She set down the dagger and met his eyes. "Am I a suspect?"

"Everyone is a suspect."

"Everyone except the real traitor." Sera stood, her movements unhurried. "I didn’t warn Thorne. I have no reason to. The north falling apart hurts my eastern provinces. Trade routes disrupted. Refugees flooding across my borders. Bandits using the chaos as cover. I want stability, not chaos."

Theron studied her. She was telling the truth. He had learned to read lies, and Sera’s face held none.

"Then who did it?"

"I don’t know. But I can tell you who it isn’t." She walked to a small chest by her bed and pulled out a folded parchment. "This is a list of everyone who entered the palace in the days before the assassination. Visitors. Merchants. Couriers. Petitioners. Someone on this list carried the warning north." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Theron took the list. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because if the traitor isn’t caught, suspicion will fall on me. And I didn’t survive Magnus’s war to be brought down by a palace snake." Her eyes were cold, sharp as the blade in her hand. "Find them. Before they find you."

Theron tucked the list into his coat.

"I intend to."

He left her quarters and walked through the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing on the stone.