The blade came fast, a clean arc that would have ended in Tristan's heart if Shannon hadn't shoved him sideways. Arriane cut in from nowhere… steel rang bright. Silk snapped like a banner. Then the assassin went down under Kim's weight. Shackles. Shock. Screams blending into the scrape of boots.
Then—nothing concrete.
No crest inside the cloak, no mark on the dagger, no telltale payday stuffed in a pocket. The man kept his eyes on the stones and repeated, over and over, "I want an advocate." He would name neither patron nor price.
By afternoon, the rumors had done his work for him. Troy. Of course it was Troy. Everyone said so.
The next morning in court, Troy turned the rumor inside out.
