When Leonid pressed his sword to my throat, I caught the scent from his sleeve—aged vellum and cedar ink. The scent of the Cambridge library.
"The coin's inscription," he said, the blade dipping closer. "Aiónia mnḗmē—Eternal Memory. Isn't it?"
From the shadows behind the wine casks, Lily suddenly emerged, crossbow drawn and aimed at Leonid's back. "Step away from Her Majesty, traitor."
"Traitor?" Leonid chuckled, turning slowly. His blade traced a silver arc in the dark. "Who handed over Xiao Chenyi's unconscious body to the Inquisition the night of the fire?"
Lily's hands trembled on the trigger.
I reached for the dagger strapped to my thigh, but Leonid's voice stopped me cold. "That night, your senior didn't give you just one letter. There was a second—"
"In my corset." My hand froze at my waist.
Only my diary held that secret.
Leonid's sword clattered to the floor. As he tore off his cravat, the burn scar beneath was revealed—identical to Alfred's.
"The man who ran into the flames to save you wasn't just the King," he said. "It was the head of his agents, planted at Cambridge."
A wine barrel burst open behind us. My father and the guards stormed in. Leonid shoved me toward Lily. "Run! Go to the Tower—find Richard!"
As the hiss of an arrow split the air, I heard my mother's last cry echo from behind:
"At the end of the cellar, there's a passage! The antidote to the purple iris is—"