Chapter 21 · The Ticket With a Death Date

Wantang caught up to Sephra three corridors past the trial chamber.

The envoy didn't run. She walked like someone who'd already won, her tribunal robes barely whispering against the stone. The silver ticket gleamed between her fingers, catching torchlight with every step.

"You knew." Wantang's voice came out raw. Her lungs still burned from the soul-fire. "The whole time. You knew."

Sephra stopped. Turned.

Her face was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm Wantang had seen across negotiation tables right before someone flipped the board.

"Walk with me," Sephra said. Not a request.

Wantang's hand went to the contract mark on her wrist. Still warm. Still binding. Rowan was back in the chamber, surrounded by royal guards and frontier witnesses and people who'd just watched his memories burn in front of the entire court. She should go back. She should—

Sephra was already moving.

Wantang followed.

They walked past the main halls, past the scribes' quarters, down a servants' stair that smelled like old wax and older secrets. No guards here. No witnesses. Just two women and a ticket that shouldn't exist.

Sephra pushed open a door. A records room, small and windowless.