The "Black Boar" didn't just smell like a tavern; it smelled like a lapse in judgment. It was tucked into a narrow alleyway in the Lower Docks, where the fog from the river clung to the cobbles like a damp shroud.
I pulled my cloak tighter, feeling the weight of the bearer bonds hidden in my corset. Walking into a den of thieves while carrying a fortune was the literal definition of high-risk accounting.
"Keep your hood up," Kaelen muttered, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword. He had traded his royal silks for scarred leather, looking more like a mercenary than a Prince. "And let me do the talking. These people don't respond well to... audits."
"I've dealt with predatory lenders before, Kaelen," I whispered back. "They're all the same. They want what they haven't earned."
We pushed through the heavy oak doors. The interior was a haze of cheap tobacco smoke and the sour tang of fermented grog. The music—a discordant lute—stopped the moment we stepped in. A dozen pairs of eyes, none of them friendly, tracked us.
"We're looking for 'The Broker,'" Kaelen said to the barkeep, a man whose neck was thicker than my waist.
The barkeep didn't look up from the glass he was cleaning with a rag that looked like it had been used to mop a stable. "Broker's busy. Unless you've got a ticket."
I stepped forward before Kaelen could stop me. I reached into my cloak and pulled out a single, high-denomination Lexen gold coin—one of the few I'd kept from the "Cabbage Fund." I slid it across the sticky bar top.
"I don't have a ticket," I said, my voice cold and professional. "I have a settlement. Tell him the 'Auditress' is here to check his balance."
The barkeep looked at the coin, then at me. He nodded toward a dark curtain in the back. "Bottom of the stairs. Don't trip on the rats."
The basement was surprisingly clean—a sign of a man who ran his crimes with a sense of order. Sitting behind a desk made of driftwood was a man with white hair and spectacles. He looked more like a librarian than a kingpin.
"Lady Elara," the Broker said, his voice a dry rasp. "And the Crown Prince. My, my. My insurance premium just went through the roof."
"You have a note, Broker," I said, ignoring the chair he offered. "Sent by a woman in lilac. We want to know who the recipient is."
The Broker leaned back, tapping his fingers together. "Information is an asset, My Lady. And assets have a market price. What are you offering? The Prince's protection? Or perhaps a pardon for my... 'miscellaneous' business ventures?"
"I'm offering you a deal," I said, leaning over his desk. "I've seen the Imperial Treasury's secret files. I know you've been laundering money through the spice trade for a decade. I haven't reported it yet. If you give me the name, that file stays at the bottom of my 'To-Do' list."
The Broker's eyes sharpened. He looked at Kaelen, then back at me. "You're a dangerous woman, Elara. Vane said you were just a girl with a calculator."
"Vane is currently sitting in a damp cell," I reminded him. "Do you want to join him, or do you want to stay in business?"
The Broker sighed, pulling a small ledger from his desk. He flipped to a page near the back. "The note wasn't for a man. It was for a ship. The Silver Siren. It leaves for the Southern Isles at midnight. The 'man' Beatrice mentioned is the captain. He's carrying the package."
The Southern Isles. My retirement island was in that direction.
"The Star of the South is on that ship," Kaelen growled.
"Along with the rest of Vane's liquid assets," I added. My heart started racing. This wasn't just about a diamond anymore. This was the final piece of the puzzle. If that ship sailed, the Empire's wealth went with it.
"Midnight," Kaelen said, checking the clock on the wall. "We have two hours."
We turned to leave, but the Broker called out one last time. "Lady Elara! A word of advice. The Captain of the Siren doesn't take 'settlements.' He takes lives. Bring more than a pen."
I didn't look back. "I'm bringing a Prince and a grudge. That should be enough for any balance sheet."