“Mommy, I’m bored.”

  Vera stilled. Her head turned slowly toward Serel, who was sitting on the couch with a book nearly larger than her torso open across her lap. She blinked.

  Several times.

  “You’re… bored?”

  Serel nodded. “Mmm.”

  Vera studied her. “You sure?”

  The girl gave her a strange look. “Mmm.”

  “…One hundred percent?”

  Serel’s head tilted. “What does that mean?”

  “A percent is a—” Vera stopped, sighed, and shook her head. “Never mind. But you’re really, actually, seriously bored?”

  “Mommy, you keep asking the same thing.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

  Serel had only ever been patient and well-behaved around her. The girl rarely complained, never made any real demands, and seemed content just following along. So hearing her say something as ordinary as I’m bored… it took a moment to click.

  “Miss Morgans,” Gard, the Vice-Master of Hollowstone Table, glanced up from the desk between them, “if you’d like, I could call for someone to keep her company. I’m sure we could come up with a reasonable excuse.”

  “No,” Vera said immediately. “I’d rather not let her out of my sight for now.”

  The man gave her a measured look but eventually inclined his head. “Very well.”

  Vera turned her attention back to Serel, considering her for a moment.

  Since Vanded Blazegrip was currently missing ‘finding a gift,’ she’d taken some time to go over the situation with the Vice-Master and discuss their next steps. He’d shown her several documents he’d somehow managed to obtain during the day—supply ledgers, transport lists, and resource tallies moving through Marrowfen over the last month—trying to narrow down the Concord’s recent movements.

  Vera wasn’t exactly an expert in logistics, but she made an effort to follow along, if only due to the seriousness of the situation. That, however, meant Serel had been left to entertain herself. Given how well the girl had handled the quiet afternoon in the Ashledger Archive, Vera hadn’t expected it to be an issue.

  Apparently, it was.

  Normally, that would probably have sent Vera scrambling for how to respond, but instead, she found herself oddly relieved. It was strange—but it was because Serel was usually so patient that it felt… good to see her act her age.

  Still, maybe not the best timing for it, considering the city might potentially be facing an impending crisis.

  Her gaze lingered on Serel before shifting back to the Vice-Master. “You don’t happen to know when Blazegrip will be back, do you?”

  “I would expect before nightfall,” he said. “I am… hoping he returns before the Concord makes their next move.”

  “Hmm.” Vera nodded faintly, then rose, summoning Stillwake into her hand. “We’ll trust that he does. I think you can handle the rest of these details without me, though. Serel and I will be taking our leave here—I have a subordinate that should be returning soon with information from investigating in the city, and I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

  “A subordinate?”

  “My butler.”

  “Oh.”

  “Or steward, maybe. Still not sure which he prefers. He handles most things.” Vera turned to Serel. “You ready to go meet Caldrin, kiddo? Think that’ll bore you less?”

  Serel closed the book carefully, hugging it to her chest as she slid off the couch and crossed the room to her side. “Mmm,” she said softly.

  “If I may ask, Miss Morgans,” the Vice-Master ventured, “what sort of investigation is your… butler conducting?”

  “I think it had something to do with a missing high-born,” Vera said.

  The man reached up to remove a pair of spectacles. “It wasn’t the High Warden or any of the Concord’s missing members, was it?”

  “I don’t know. You would have to ask him.” Vera paused, then added, “Actually, you could do that. Want to join us? I can send you back here after we’re done.”

  A trace of surprise moved across his face, but after a moment of consideration, he nodded and pushed himself up from his chair. “If you’d have me.”

  “Doesn’t cost me anything.”

  As he moved to join them, Vera raised Stillwake and invoked Mark of the Hollow Reach, cutting a thin tear through the air. The three of them stepped through and emerged into the now familiar interior of The Hallowed Shear.

  A startled gasp left Serel.

  Vera’s eyes shot wide open.

  In front of them was Caldrin, bare from the waist up, his pale skin smeared with half-dried blood. His blond hair was a disheveled mess, and the tattered remnants of his layered tunics and velvet coat sat soaking in a nearby bucket, stained completely red.

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  He turned at their arrival, completely composed. “Ah, my lady. Young Miss. Pardon my… less-than-presentable state.” He bowed smoothly, a damp towel in hand, as though nothing at all were out of place.

  “Jesus, Caldrin.” Vera stared at him. “What happened to you?”

  He frowned lightly at her phrasing but quickly schooled his expression. “An unfortunate encounter, though not as dire as it appears. Rest assured, while the blood is mostly mine, I have had ample Emberphials to mend what was lost.”

  “‘An unfortunate encounter,’ he says!”

  Korrin’s voice erupted from the adjoining room before the old barber shuffled in, clutching a folded set of fresh clothes under one arm. “Lad drops out of thin air lookin’ like he wrestled a blood fountain, scares the marrow out of an old man with one foot already in the grave—and that’s all he has to say!”

  Vera’s eyes narrowed as she looked Caldrin over more carefully. Her gaze settled on his right arm. The skin there was even paler than the rest of him. Then her eyes dropped to the bloody bucket on the floor, noting how one sleeve of the coat seemed to be missing.

  …Had he lost an arm? Was that where all the blood came from?

  A quiet chill ran through her. She turned toward Serel.

  The girl stood frozen, staring at Caldrin, her small hands clutching her book tight to her chest, face gone pale as paper.

  “Serel,” Vera said, stepping closer and reaching out to touch her shoulder, to draw her gaze away from the blood. The girl didn’t move. “Serel,” she tried again, firmer this time, but there was no response.

  Caldrin looked at the girl, and only now did he appear to register what effect his current appearance actually had on her. Vera saw part of his composure faltering as guilt flickered across his features. “Young miss… This truly isn’t as bad as it looks.”

  His words didn’t seem to reach her. He looked to Vera, bowing his head. “My lady, I… didn’t take into account— I should have been more thorough before your arrival. My apologies.”

  Vera watched him.

  It was the first time since meeting him that she’d seen Caldrin misstep. Everything she knew about him said he was meticulous by nature—measured to the point of irritation, thinking ahead—yet it had taken him this long to realize how appearing drenched in blood might affect a literal child.

  Was it because of whatever he’d been through? Maybe it had shaken him more than his apparent composure upon their arrival had suggested. If all that blood was his, then simply standing up was a miracle. Emberphials or not. Vera didn’t know exactly how those functioned in this world, but maybe they weren’t perfect.

  She turned back to Serel, kneeling slightly and cupping the girl’s face in her hand. “Serel, look at me.”

  It took a moment, but the girl’s eyes finally shifted to her. Vera met them carefully. “He’s fine. Caldrin’s strong. This much is nothing for him, okay?”

  Serel still didn’t answer, but her breathing hitched, the tension in her small shoulders easing by fractions. There was wetness gathering at the edges of her eyes, and Vera felt her heart twist.

  The girl had seen her fight before, but this was different. This might be the first time she had ever seen blood. And on someone she knew… For a child raised in relative isolation the way Serel apparently had been, how much of a shock would that be?

  “Young miss,” Caldrin said again, pulling the shirt Korrin had brought over his shoulders, not even cleaning the remaining blood but simply trying to cover most of it. “Sincerely, you have my deepest apologies for this ghastly sight. But I promise you that I am quite well.” He flexed both his arms and rolled his shoulders. “See? Whole and hale, as they say.”

  Vera turned Serel’s face slightly so she could see for herself. The girl watched him, uncertain at first, then a bit more intently.

  A silence hung in the room.

  Finally, Serel swallowed and whispered, “Are you really fine?”

  “Absolutely fine,” Caldrin replied with a smile. “I would never lie to you, young miss.”

  A few more seconds passed. Then Serel sniffed, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and nodded. “…Okay.”

  Vera exhaled slowly. “Good girl,” she murmured, brushing a strand of silver hair from Serel’s face. “You alright?”

  Serel nodded again. “Mmm,” she said, though the stiffness in her body betrayed her.

  “Bravo, little lass,” Korrin’s voice came from behind, his tone surprisingly tender. He walked up next to Serel, his head at the same height, rummaging through a pocket before producing a small, wax-wrapped sweet. “Now then, I’ve got a question for you. Ever tried frost-mint amber drops?”

  Serel blinked.

  “They’re the kind that crackle when you bite ‘em,” he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Can’t stay scared when your mouth’s full of fire! Though none of that real fire.”

  Vera shot him a grateful look.

  He just waved a bony hand. “A frightened child should never be ignored.”

  Serel reached out to the candy, slowly unwrapping it before putting it into her mouth.

  “There’s more of ‘em in the back if you’d like, little lass. I’ll show you.” Korrin motioned to the doorway, meeting Vera’s eyes at the same time.

  After a moment, she nodded.

  “Go ahead,” Vera said. “You can follow him, okay?”

  Serel hesitated, looking at her, then to the old barber. He gave a reassuring grin full of gaps. Eventually, she took his hand, and he led her out of the room, humming something that sounded like an off-key lullaby. Vera watched them, mentally apoligizing to the man for bringing this mess into his establishment.

  When they were gone, she turned back to Caldrin. The air in the room settled significantly heavier now.

  Caldrin bowed his head again. “I cannot apologize enough, my lady. I did not think to consider how the young miss would react.”

  Vera took him in for a long moment. Then she sighed. “It’s fine. I’m not about to start yelling at you for showing up bleeding after what I presume was a lost arm.” Her eyes dropped to the bucket. “I’d be a terrible employer if I did.”

  “…Did you truly lose an arm?” Gard asked from behind her. She’d almost forgotten he’d joined them.

  Caldrin turned his head. “Briefly.”

  “And you… grew it back? With an Emberphial?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Ash take it… Where do you even find Emberphials that potent?”

  Caldrin smiled lightly. “In Sablewatch Hollow.”

  Vera glanced back at the Vice-Master. His eyes lingered on the blood-stained bucket before flicking up to Caldrin again. “…I see.”

  “I presume this man is Gard Whiteforest, the Vice-Master of Hollowstone Table?” Caldrin asked.

  Vera turned back to him. “He is. Vice-Master, this is Caldrin. Responsible for most things important at my estate.”

  Caldrin lowered his head in greeting. “A pleasure, sir.”

  “Likewise,” Gard said, though somewhat more cautiously.

  Vera crossed her arms. “Now then, Caldrin—tell me what happened.”

  The butler fell silent for a beat, his composure hardening. “There were… complications in my inquiries,” he finally said. “I encountered opposition beyond what I had anticipated. In the end, my extrication required a rather extensive application of the contingencies I prepared. Embarrassingly, I must inform you that all my phials and elixirs are now spent. Without the Veilshade Capsule I employed to hide my presence at the end, I would likely not have returned at all. An unflattering performance, after the confidence I expressed to you before, my lady.”

  Vera frowned. Caldrin was Eight Binding. Someone who could do that to him likely meant someone of at least the Tenth Binding. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, given what she had seen, but they didn’t have a reliable measure of these people’s strength.

  “And who,” she asked, surprised at how low her voice dropped, “did this to you?”

  For a moment, Caldrin said nothing. He seemed to consider.

  “Speak,” Vera said.

  “I cannot be entirely certain of the person’s identity, my lady…”

  “But you have a suspicion?”

  He inclined his head. “I believe the assailant was the individual known as Whitefinger.”

  Vera’s frown deepened.

  “That’s impossible,” Gard said sharply.

  Caldrin’s eyes turned to him. “And why is that?”

  “Because Whitefinger is dead.” The Vice-Master gestured at Vera. “Killed by her.”