The morning after the funeral, everything was too calm. Alessia smiled at the servants, gave short instructions, and drank mint tea, as if she hadn't lost her husband or learned that her son would inherit the entire legacy.
But Kallen knew that her calmness was poison in a glass. She was waiting. Watching. Calculating.
And he was going to give her what she wanted—a sense of control.
He entered the main hall quietly, maintaining a cold, polite expression on his face. He held a folder of documents in his hands. A real one. But inside, there was only an empty trap.
"Mom," he said. "Can I?"
Alessia looked at him like a hawk that had just hidden its claws.
"Of course, dear. Come in."
He placed the papers in front of her.
"It's about my father's holdings. I'm not sure how to properly formalize some of the contracts, especially with those merchant guilds that are... loyal to you. I don't want to make any mistakes."
Her eyebrow rose for a fraction of a second.
Have you come for advice?
"Okay," she said, putting her cup down. "Show me."
She began to turn the pages, and Kalen watched her eyes carefully. Where her pupils lingered longer. Which lines caused her lips to tighten slightly. He memorized all of this.
And down below, under the floor, his shadows were listening to every word she said.
"You see here," she said, pointing to a specific paragraph, "the contract with the House of Raventhal. It's in the name of third parties. Not my father. But me."
Kalen nodded slowly.
— Do you think we should redo it?
"No," she said too quickly. "It's better to leave it like this for now. To... not scare someone away."
"Who?" — What is it? " he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She looked at him over her fingers, her head tilted slightly.
"You don't think there are people in the capital who would like to take over our legacy, do you? Sometimes it's better to let people think you're still a child."
Kalen chuckled inwardly.
"Wise," he said aloud. "Good, I will."
He stood up.
"By the way. I'm thinking of temporarily dispensing with the guards in the palace. They're... too noisy. I want my shadows—mine—to provide me with protection."
Alessia raised an eyebrow.
"Do you think your creatures can protect you better than the ones I've chosen?"
He leaned towards her, smiling.
"I have no doubt that you've chosen the best. But I have a... different approach. And you've always taught me to be independent, haven't you?"
She nodded, albeit with a slight tension.
"Of course, son.
When he left the room, her eyes fell on the papers again. That's when she noticed that some of the lines lacked the magical protection that usually covered all important family documents. These were forgeries.
Her fingers slowly curled into a fist.
"You're playing. Good," she whispered. "Let's see how far you can go."
That same night, in the shadow room, Kalen sat on the floor surrounded by his shadows.
"Did she understand?" — What is it? " he asked Beste.
"Not yet. But I'm starting to suspect," the icy voice was calm.
— Fine. I wanted that.
He stood up and walked over to the altar, where a shard of a mirror lay in the center. The Mirror of Discord was a magical artifact that once revealed the truth to those who were willing to accept it... or destroyed the minds of those who were not.
"Ward," he said. "Send your shadows to follow Alessia's mage. He's the key. If I'm right, he was with her before Velmut."
"It has already been done, my lord," Vard replied, bowing his head.
With his arms crossed, Tyrk hissed:
"She's preparing a... transfer of money. Through a front company in the East Port. Perhaps she's planning an escape."
Kalen smiled, crookedly, dangerously.
— Or betrayal. She still thinks I'm a child. And I let her believe it.
He ran his claw across the glass, leaving a mark.
"But soon she will realize that she has lost the game. Only then will it really hurt."
Silence. The shadows waited.
He looked up.