I used the excuse of searching for the perfect gift for the tea party hostess longer than I thought I would.

  I drifted through the polished streets of the High Quarters with a small velvet purse looped around my wrist, pausing at shop windows and stalls that displayed things meant to impress rather than delight. Porcelain tea sets. Silver hair combs. Candied fruits imported from Ermerra, wrapped in gold-threaded paper.

  None of it felt right. None of it mattered.

  Lucielle Lumi wouldn't care what I brought. The tea party wasn't about gifts. It was about presence. About being seen.

  And this outing wasn't about Lucielle or social niceties.

  It was about Hana and my promise to contact her.

  The thought made me restless.

  That was when I noticed him.

  He stood near the edge of the square, half-shadowed by the colonnade of a government archive building. His clothes were layered and worn thin, boots cracked at the sole, hair bound back with a strip of cloth that had once been white. He held out one hand, palm up, while his other gripped a battered satchel pulled tight against his side.

  He didn't beg loudly.

  He didn't bow.

  He simply watched.

  The contrast was jarring. The High Quarters were scrubbed clean of inconvenience—of hunger, of need. People like him were ushered out quickly, before they disrupted the illusion.

  As if on cue, two enforcers were already moving toward him.

  Their uniforms were immaculate—dark, tailored coats fitted close to the body, polished boots striking softly against the stone. Each wore a structured cap bearing the city's insignia, the metal runes on their cuffs catching the light as they moved.

  They looked more like part of the city's decor than its teeth.

  "Sir," one of them said, voice clipped. "You're not permitted to loiter here."

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  I reacted before I could overthink it. A thought turned into an idea.

  "He's with me."

  Both men froze.

  I stepped forward, lifting my hand just enough for my signet ring to catch the light. "I offered him food. And conversation."

  The enforcers exchanged a short glance. Charity from a highborn woman was not unusual—performative, perhaps, but respectable.

  "Very well, my lady. We'll leave him to you."

  They withdrew.

  The man looked at me then. His gaze was sharp beneath the grime, assessing rather than grateful.

  "You didn't have to do that."

  "I know. That's why I did."

  I studied him openly now. "I need something delivered." I had no time to waste.

  His brow lifted. "A parcel?"

  "A letter."

  "That's riskier."

  "I'm paying for the risk."

  He considered me for a moment longer. "Why not send it through proper channels?"

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  "Because it wouldn't arrive."

  "And why is that?"

  I smiled faintly, patience growing thin. "Because my family wouldn't like where it's going."

  That earned a low huff of laughter.

  "Bold. Or foolish."

  "Both," I agreed. "Which is why I need someone who knows how to disappear."

  He tilted his head. "And why should I trust you?"

  I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Because no one else in this square will offer you what I'm about to."

  I pressed a small stack of bills into his hand. Not enough to be reckless. Enough to matter.

  His fingers curled around it slowly.

  "And if I take it and vanish?"

  I met his eyes without blinking. "Then you'll never hear from me again. And you'll lose the opportunity for steady payment."

  That caught his attention. He nodded once.

  I extended a folded letter, sealed and unmarked.

  "I don't know the address. Rough directions only." I hesitated, praying my memory wouldn't betray me now. "Start at Garel's Pawn. In the Lower Quarters."

  His brow lifted slightly. "That narrows it."

  "From there, take the road that slopes downhill.

  You'll pass a bakery on the corner—it smells like caramel in the mornings. Turn left there."

  I paused, choosing my words carefully.

  "Two streets down, there's a row of houses with blue shutters. One of them has a fig tree in the front yard. That's where Hana lives. I need the letter to reach her."

  He studied me for a moment. "And if she's not home?"

  "Ask for her mother, Mariel. People know her. She's lived there a long time."

  He tucked the letter into his satchel. "I'll get it to her."

  "When?"

  "Soon. Quietly."

  I nodded. "We meet again in a week. By the central library. Midday."

  He hesitated. Then inclined his head. "Done."

  I watched him disappear into the crowd before turning away, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

  I looked around nervously. Aside from the curious glance from a young man drinking tea, no one else seemed to have witnessed my exchange.

  My driver was far enough he'd have no way of seeing me.

  I didn't notice a certain blond man stepping outside the bank. His gaze finding me as soon as he raised his eyes from his parcel.

  The tea party was exactly what I expected.

  Lucielle's residence was bright and airy, filled with soft laughter and the clink of porcelain. I moved through the space with careful ease, listening more than I spoke, offering smiles where they were wanted and curiosity where it earned me favor.

  I learned quickly to match their energy.

  The other girls admitted—confidentially, of course—why they'd never invited me much before. I had seemed distant. Severe. Unapproachable.

  I laughed softly. "I was just shy. And terribly bad at showing it."

  They accepted that explanation readily.

  By the time I left, I'd been invited to two luncheons, a gallery opening, and another tea.

  Names were exchanged. Surnames noted.

  Back at the manor, I recounted the afternoon with deliberate enthusiasm when I found Father just outside his library.

  "So many invitations," I said brightly as I removed my gloves. "I didn't realize how much I'd been missing."

  Father listened, expression unreadable—until I casually mentioned the houses involved.

  Lumi. Caltheris. Veyne.

  His posture eased.

  "I'm glad you're making connections. You were never interested in such things before."

  I smiled. "I suppose I've changed."

  He nodded once, satisfied.

  Mission accomplished.