Chapter 3

Katrina POV:

Harper stared at the name "Augustus Mccall" on the parchment and shook her head hard, as if the ink itself were poisoned with Cold Iron.

"Katrina, do you have any idea how terrifying the High Lord is? His Black-Winged Wyrm Legion could grind the entire Antai Guild into dust in an hour."

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wooden chair.

"I know. And because he's terrifying, my adoptive father, Harrell Anderson, and Edmund won't dare breathe too loudly around him. I need his power to protect the mine charter my father left me."

"But why would he ever agree to marry you?" Harper paced the tiny room. "To the public, you're a Spirit-less outcast without a Tide-Oath Ring, while he sits at the High Council's Great Table!"

I stood up and looked out at the glowing blue dome of the Tidal Bubble high above the rooftops.

"Because he needs a wife to shut the elders up. Everyone knows his Tide-Spirit backlash is so severe he can't tolerate a noblewoman's Soothing without going berserk."

I turned back to face her.

"So a Spirit-less woman who won't trigger his power, has no powerful clan backing to spy on his military, and only wants a temporary shield is his perfect match."

Harper stopped pacing and stared at me for a long moment.

"Your brain really belongs at the Great Table. Fine, the logic works. But how do you even get near him? Not even a sea-fly gets past his manor guards."

I tapped my knuckles against the desk.

"That's where I need you. You have connections in the Inner Atolls salons. Can you find out his private schedule for the next two days?"

Harper bit her lip, then slammed her palm on the wood.

"Deal! Just to see that scum Edmund choke on his own pride, I'm in! I'll check the merchant courier network tonight."

I stepped forward and hugged her tight.

"Thank you, Harper. When this is over, I'll buy you a whole jug of Imperial Nectar."

Harper pushed me back with a snort, though her eyes softened.

"Save it until you survive talking to him. Are you really sure about this?"

I looked down at the faded hem of my dress.

"My adoptive father, Harrell, wants to push me into the abyss. I don't have a choice."

After Harper left, I sat at the desk until the Hydrosun dimmed into artificial night. By the tiny glow-stone, I copied the guild's secret crystal ledger onto clean paper, circling every sum Harrell had embezzled over the past three years. Every time I thought of Augustus's scorching hand on my waist in the plaza, my pulse jumped, but I forced my hand to stay steady.

At dawn, the Spirit Nautilus on my desk buzzed twice. It was an encrypted text message from Harper.

Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, Augustus would visit a private parlor at the Pearl and Rose Tea House in the Inner Atolls. Harper had added a note at the bottom: the marble partitions in the corner booths had an old flaw in their soundproofing runes. If I sat next door, my voice would carry through the air vent.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Someone like the High Lord would have his guards throw me out if I begged for a meeting at the door. The only way to make him listen was to let him overhear the bait himself.

I threw my rough notes into the brazier and watched the flames eat the parchment.

The next morning, I washed my cleanest pale-gray sea-silk dress, brushed my dark brown hair, and touched the dead gray scale on my forehead. Before leaving, I took the small blood-jade token my father had left me—the key to thirty percent of the guild's original mines—and sewed it tight inside my bodice lining.

I took the public transit car into the Inner Atolls. Four tide-hours remained before three o'clock. I sat on a stone bench in a public garden to steady my breathing while passing noblewomen in pearl-trimmed gowns pointed at my bare fingers and whispered behind their fans.

An hour before the meeting, an old weaver from my workshop slipped me a secret signal: Harrell, my adoptive father, had already called a clan assembly to strip my name from the lineage roster.

My time was up. At half-past two, I smoothed my skirts and walked straight to the Pearl and Rose Tea House.

The doorman looked down his nose at my gray Brow Scale, but stepped aside when I showed him the VIP pass Harper had gotten me. Walking down the floral-scented hall, I chose the marble booth right beside the inner corner partition.

I ordered the cheapest pot of ice-mint tea, wrapped my cold fingers around the porcelain cup, and waited for the predator next door to arrive.