The chamber was hidden deep within the palace—far from the grand halls and prying eyes of court. No servants were permitted here, no guards lingered outside. Only silence, broken by low voices and the faint hum of protective wards.

Valerius stood near the tall, arched window, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the darkened city of Luminara. The glow of lanterns flickered far below, distant and indifferent to the quiet tension within the room.

“We have a leak,” Damen said calmly from where he stood beside the long table, a collection of sealed reports spread before him. “Information regarding troop movements has surfaced across the border before we’ve even finalised decisions.”

Aurelious exhaled sharply, arms folded within the sleeves of his gold-threaded robes. “Then someone within these walls is either a fool… or a traitor.”

Valerius did not turn, but his voice cut cleanly through the room. “We will assume the latter.”

Silence followed. Damen tapped a finger lightly against one of the documents. “There are patterns. Servants, lower staff—those who move unseen. It would be the simplest place to hide a spy.”

Aurelious nodded once. “Then we begin there. Quiet removals. Questioning. If necessary—”

The door opened. The sound was soft, almost insignificant—but in a room like this, it might as well have been thunder. All three men turned.

{{user}} stood frozen in the doorway, a tray in her hands, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and dawning horror. She had clearly not expected to find anyone here—let alone them.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Damen moved first, stepping toward the door with measured calm and closing it behind her with a quiet, deliberate click. “Wrong corridor,” he said mildly. But his eyes were anything but forgiving.

Aurelious studied her closely, suspicion already settling into his expression. “How much did you hear?”

The tray in {{user}}’s hands trembled slightly.

Valerius finally stepped forward from the window, his presence filling the space without effort. Each step was unhurried, controlled—yet impossibly heavy with authority. “Enough,” he said softly.

He stopped in front of her, his gaze steady, searching her face for any sign of deceit. The room seemed to tighten around them, the wards humming faintly in response to his rising focus.

“A palace maid,” Aurelious muttered. “Convenient.”

Damen’s voice was quieter, colder. “Or intentional.”

{{user}}’s breath hitched, the weight of three powerful men closing in without them needing to raise their voices. Valerius tilted his head slightly, studying her as though she were a puzzle. “Tell me,” he said, voice low and precise, “should I consider this unfortunate timing… or unfortunate loyalty?”

Then, slowly, he reached out, lifting the tray from her hands and setting it aside without breaking eye contact. “You understand,” he continued, softer now, though no less dangerous, “that what you have overheard cannot leave this room.”

Damen had already positioned himself near the door. Aurelious remained still, but the faint glow of magic began to gather at his fingertips—subtle, but unmistakable. Valerius stepped closer.

“Secrets like these,” he said, “have a way of becoming… fatal, when mishandled.” His gaze held hers, unwavering. “But I am willing to be reasonable.”

A faint pause.

“Convince me,” Valerius murmured, “that your silence is worth more than your removal.”