Chapter 7 · The Gold Warrant

"Don't open it." Ivy's fingers locked around my wrist before I got the lid up. Blood ran from her shoulder to her forearm and dripped onto the rusted iron.

"It's a box, Ivy. Not a bear trap."

"The note says—"

"I can read."

I pried her fingers off one at a time. She let me. That scared me more than the arrow wound. Ivy didn't surrender ground unless she had none left to give.

The note was jammed sideways in the keyhole, soaked through except for two words scratched in something darker than ink.

DON'T OPEN.

I pulled it free and shoved it into my pocket.

"Ryan."

"Save your breath."

I raised the rock.

"Ryan, if that box is sealed, there's a reason."

"Yeah. Someone wanted me to find it."

The lock broke on the third hit. The lid sprang up with a wet groan.

Inside lay a ledger wrapped in oilcloth. The leather had gone soft with damp, but the first page still carried my father's handwriting. The numbers beneath it were worse than the blood on Ivy's sleeve.

Names. Loans. Seals pressed into wax at the bottom of every entry.

Lord Harmon. Lord Pryce.