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Chapter 6: Capital Gains
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Chapter 8: Masquerade of Gold and Lace
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... fumble in confusion while you sip tea in a lace robe. I should know. I was doing exactly that when the second inquisitorial letter arrived. This time, it was pinned to the breastplate of a dead courier with silver nails.
"Lovely," I murmured, stirring honey into my cup. "They’ve upgraded to theatrics."
Roderick dragged the body into the back with a grunt. He muttered something about needing stronger wards on the perimeter. I, meanwhile, was admiring the calligraphy on the parchme ...
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