Morning rituals were nothing special—though the day always started a bit sweeter when no apprentices were underfoot. The bathhouse was mine alone, steam curling like a contented cat as I steeped in water just shy of boiling. Let lesser creatures yelp at the temperature; only scalding depths could unknot the coiled fire in a dragon’s spine. Blissful, scalding solitude.

  Of course, the moment couldn’t st. Soon enough, I was drying off, gearing up to py the part of the haughty, poised dy. A role I’d slipped into so often it didn’t even feel like acting anymore. Perhaps I’d been born with a crown in my veins—or maybe I’d been a natural diva all along. Either way, the courtly pantomime held.

  My footsteps echoed down the corridor, a rhythmic click that faltered only once when something odd tugged at my senses. I frowned but kept walking. It was subtle, yet distinct: multiple breathing signatures clustered in the garden outside the dormitory. Another handful lingered inside, making no effort to hide their presence. Curious.

  The dorm warden was stationed in her usual spot. Figuring she’d be a decent source of gossip, I sauntered over, exchanged greetings, and dropped a vague hint about the mysterious presences. That was all it took for her to perk up and spill.

  “Oh, those are from the Iron Pact,” she said with a cheerful shrug. “Nothing to worry about, it seems. Though I don’t know their exact purpose. I was just told to accommodate their requests.”

  The Iron Pact? Here? Now that was intriguing. What business could they possibly have in this corner of the world? I thanked her, my eyes flitting to the enforcers decked out in their eborate attire. Maybe this had something to do with Vasilisa’s recent grumbles about sabotage, though it felt mispced. Why poke around here instead of sniffing out trouble where it actually brewed? Curious, but not my circus, not my monkeys.

  Alice fell into step beside me, her gnce at the enforcers as casual as her shrug. I took that as my cue to move on. If it didn’t involve me, I wasn’t losing sleep over it.

  Reaching my workstation on the second floor, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. Among my many treasures were some delightfully illicit poison ingredients I’d been itching to experiment with. Today felt like the perfect day to brew something particurly lethal—for my own enjoyment, of course. A truly dangerous drink, one that might just knock me ft if I mixed it right. My kind of beverage.

  First, I needed to process the contraband before anyone got nosy. That, and finish the potions and elixirs due for the week. No rush, though. I still had four days to spare, and the only real headache came from hawk-eyed Vasilisa, who had a knack for catching even the tiniest slip-up. Personally, I didn’t see how anyone managed to botch basic potions. Never had that issue myself.

  Still, appearances had to be maintained. I put together a batch of standard-issue potions on the side while brewing my cndestine cocktail. My mouth watered in anticipation. Just a little longer, and the first sip would be mine.

  So engrossed was I in my work that I almost missed Miss Petrov’s approach. Almost.

  “Productive as ever, I see,” she remarked, gimlet eyes narrowing at the frothing brew. To her, it likely resembled mundane health potion. Probably. Only Vasilisa’s hawk-nose might detect its true nature: a concoction where one drop could depopute a hamlet. Possibly.

  “That I am,” I replied smoothly, adding, “Personal research.” Confidence was armor; I wore it like scales.

  “So I’ve observed.” she said, tone as neutral as ever.

  Well, that’s mildly unsettling. Miss Petrov didn’t usually linger unless it was to greet me at the start or end of my shift. Twice now, though, she’d shown up mid-session. Once was already odd. Yesterday, it had been to confirm I’d been sneaking out after curfew.

  Bollocks.

  Had I messed up again?

  She spared me the suspense. “Whatever fresh mischief you’ve hatched, Vasilisa demands your presence. Again.”

  Welp. That settled it. I gnced at Alice, who was still lounging nearby. She gave me her signature noncommittal shrug.

  Marvelous. Had Vasilisa turned bloodhound? Installed some hex or enchantment in my room to sniff out my extracurricurs? Nah, that seemed a little far-fetched. Besides, Belle would’ve spotted something like that and warned me.

  Keeping my face as bnk as a freshly wiped ste, I stood and headed toward the back office. The usual clutter greeted me, but this time, Vasilisa wasn’t alone.

  My gaze immediately nded on the hulking rakari—a lion-kin warrior I recognized all too well. It was him. The one who came when I oh-so-generously injected Iron’s posterior with poison. He was fully armored, a massive broadsword hovering ominously at his side.

  And then there was the other one. An older drakkari with a beard that could house a family of sparrows. Both sets of eyes locked onto me as I stepped inside. Their postures shifted ever so slightly, muscles tensing, like I was about to pull out a knife and start a brawl.

  Weird.

  “Does she match your description?” Vasilisa asked, skipping right past her usual pleasantries.

  Huh. No barbed greeting? No lecture on tardiness? Straight to the bde’s edge? Oh, this reeked of pyre smoke.

  The older drakkari spoke, his hands swirling in an intricate motion. A matrix of light began to form, and that was all it took for Alice to startle. Without so much as a warning, she dove straight into the floor, vanishing from sight. And no, I’m not being poetic—she literally plunged into the solid floor like it was a pond.

  I permitted myself precisely one arched eyebrow.

  Meanwhile, the drakkari’s spell circle bzed to life above him—a brilliant formation of light mana, adorned with runes and an ominous eye at its center. His expression darkened as the intricate dispy was suddenly engulfed by inky, swirling darkness.

  “She matches the description,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly. “But... there’s no mark on her. Not even a hint of lingering water mana.” His frown deepened as the circle fizzled out.

  “Are you certain, Warden Vorak?” the rakari rumbled, his deep voice carrying skepticism. “This scrap of a girl’s your divination prize? No error in your… arts?”

  “Oh, I’m damn sure,” Vorak replied, with the confidence of someone who’d bet his pension on it. “When a divination is this clear, I snapshot every detail. Trust me—this is the one.”

  With that, he stepped toward me, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. “The doll hasn’t sunk its hooks yet—but it will. You’ll answer pin, girl. Lie, and I’ll taste it in your pulse.”

  My gaze instinctively flicked toward Vasilisa, wordlessly asking for an expnation. Why was I suddenly being interrogated by these enforcers? And how did they already know about Alice? Could it mean she wasn’t just some stray oddity but something these Iron Pact people were actively keeping tabs on?

  Alice had mentioned waking up in a dark pce before. Weak seals. An escape. It added up—she might’ve broken out of their HQ.

  Vasilisa nodded once, granting me permission to speak. I nodded back, keeping my expression neutral.

  “Great,” Vorak said. “Have you experienced any unusual fatigue tely? Difficulty staying awake? Strange dreams?”

  Ah, time to py the truth game—my way. Roundabout answers were my forte.

  “Yes, I felt fatigued yesterday morning,” I said, pausing for a heartbeat. “Though when you survive on one hour's sleep, grogginess becomes someone else's problem. As for strange dreams? Nothing unusual. Same old, same old.”

  Vorak’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my every word. After a tense moment, he nodded.

  “Have you heard anything odd when alone? Dripping water? Whispers? Voices?”

  Tricky territory. But rules were made for bending. "A phantom noise, once. Yesterday's dawn—when exhaustion chewed my senses ragged. No repeats since."

  Vorak turned to the rakari, who gave a nonchant shrug. “She’s telling the truth, Warden.”

  Vorak sighed, rubbing at his eyes as if this whole situation had aged him. “Still, this is... problematic. I didn’t expect the cursed artifact to dispy this level of intelligence. To stay under the radar for this long—and not affect the only lead we had on it.”

  The rakari stepped forward, his words rolling out in a gravelly cadence. “Perhaps we escort her to Fang’s Ascent. If the doll’s weaving subtle threads, we could test for compulsions there—”

  "Enough." Vasilisa's voice froze the room mid-breath. "You've squandered my apprentice's patience with your parlor tricks. Did I invite you to haul her off like contraband?"

  The rakari’s jaw twitched as he opened his mouth to argue, “Master Vasilisa, protocol demands—” but Vasilisa clipped him with a single, slicing word.

  "Silence."

  The room chilled, the air tightening like the prelude to a winter storm.

  “Master Vasilisa,” Vorak tried again, this time with a veneer of respect, though his brows betrayed their twitching annoyance. “Surely you grasp the stakes. If this artifact—this doll—is present, it’s a powder keg waiting to ignite. A danger to your apprentice, and everyone else nearby.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of the stakes, Warden. I’m also aware that your case hangs on shadows and whispers, and I will not have you dragging my apprentice off to Fang’s Ascent on a hunch dressed up as evidence.”

  The rakari sighed, heavy and theatrical. “I understand your concerns, but rest assured, my bde-sworn are shadows in daylight. She’d return unscathed.”

  Vasilisa’s lips curved in a bde-thin smile. “Once, Andrzej, when your oaths still held weight, I might’ve considered it. But now, no one is taking her from this pce, and that’s final. Search the premises if you must, tear the walls apart if it makes you feel productive—but my apprentice stays put until the one targeting my business and my people is dealt with.”

  The protest died in their throats as her finality sunk in, leaving them defted, their earlier bravado snuffed out.

  For once, I was grateful. People who could sift lies from truth are dangerous to someone with secrets worth keeping. And I had plenty. A silent thanks to Vasilisa for fending them off.

  Dismissed with a curt word, I turned my focus back to alchemy. As I stepped out of the frost-bitten room, Alice drifted up through the floorboards as if she hadn’t just vanished earlier, her movements as seamless as breathing. Whatever she was before, it had clearly attracted all the wrong attention. Iron Pact enforcers prowled the grounds like vultures scenting a storm, though for now, I was safe enough.

  I slipped into the rhythm of alchemy, the bubbling vials and faintly acrid smells lulling me back into focus. But paranoia lingered like a shadow; my senses stayed sharp. Trouble didn’t knock again, but I had the distinct feeling it was biding its time. Alice, at least, was adept at keeping herself hidden.

  Instead, Viera found me. She appeared as usual, exchanging pleasantries before trailing me back to my room. Once inside, I closed the door and felt the familiar hum of the wards locking into pce.

  “So,” I asked, leaning against the workbench, “any updates?”

  “Hah, not really. Father’s still out and hasn’t returned yet.”

  Work in progress, I thought. Still, the Iron was perfectly poised for questioning—they just needed to act before their lead cooled or something worse happened.

  Viera’s fingers knotted the hem of her sleeve, a tic she’d never outgrown. Courage, it seemed, was still a currency she struggled to spend.

  I arched a brow. “Out with it. You’re about to combust.”

  “It’s just—” She inhaled, steeling herself. “My family’s hosting a ball. For my eighteenth. I thought… perhaps you’d grace the madness?” A brittle ugh. “No obligation, of course! I just thought—”

  Her words trailed off, her thumbs twiddling like nervous little cogs.

  Even as she spoke, my brain was already sprinting ahead. Sasha, that saryn girl, had mentioned something about pnning a surprise for a friend’s upcoming birthday. And that friend, as luck would have it, was stationed in the Alchemy Tower.

  Why did this reek of impending chaos?