My new office was everything a forensic accountant could dream of: thick stone walls, a massive mahogany desk, and enough filing cabinets to hide a body (or at least a very large tax evasion scheme).
But I didn't have time to admire the decor. I had twenty-nine days left to find the Star of the South, or my "Grand Auditress" title would be replaced with "Inmate #402."
"The guest list, My Lady," Hans said, placing a freshly transcribed document on my desk. He was wearing a new, crisp suit. He looked like he had finally accepted that his mistress was now a government official.
"Thank you, Hans. Who's our first candidate for 'Most Likely to Have a Stolen Diamond in Their Underwear'?"
Hans cleared his throat. "Lady Beatrice of House Thorne. She was seen whispering with Lord Vane near the display case moments before the blackout. She is also... notoriously broke."
"A perfect combination," I muttered. "Bring her in."
Lady Beatrice didn't walk into my office; she floated, draped in layers of lilac lace and the scent of desperate social climbing.
"Lady Elara," she said, her voice thin and airy. "Or should I say, Grand Auditress? It's such a... functional title."
"It gets the job done," I said, not looking up from my ledger. "Sit down, Beatrice. Let's talk about your jewelry. Specifically, the pieces you don't have."
Beatrice stiffened, her lace rustling. "I don't know what you mean."
"Your family's estate in the North," I said, finally looking up. "The silver mines ran dry two years ago. You've been selling off your grandmother's rubies to pay for your dressmaker. And yet, this morning, you placed an order for a new carriage and three purebred stallions. Where did the capital come from?"
Beatrice's pale face went white. "That's... that's private family business!"
"In this room, there is no such thing as 'private,'" I said, leaning forward. I clicked my pen—a habit from my old life. "Vane gave you something during the Gala, didn't he? A down payment for a service?"
"I... I just talked to him! He's an old friend!"
"He's a traitor who tried to burn the Treasury," I snapped. "If you're his 'friend,' you're his accomplice. That carries a minimum sentence of twenty years in the salt mines. Do you know what salt does to a lilac complexion, Beatrice? It's not a moisturizer."
Beatrice began to tremble. "He didn't give me the diamond! I swear! He just gave me a note! He told me to deliver it to a man at the 'Black Boar' tavern tonight!"
The Black Boar. A dive bar in the slums. Not exactly the usual haunt for a Chancellor.
"The note," I demanded, holding out my hand.
"I... I already sent it," she whispered. "I needed the money, Elara! He promised me five thousand gold just for the delivery!"
I stood up, grabbing my coat. I didn't have time to scold her for being a pawn. "Hans! Get the carriage ready. And send a message to the Prince. Tell him we're going to the slums. And tell him to dress... inconspicuous."
Ten minutes later, Kaelen burst into the room. He was wearing a hooded cloak over dark tunics. He looked like a shadow with eyes of fire.
"The Black Boar?" he asked, his hand already on his sword. "That's a neutral zone for the underworld, Elara. Even the Guard doesn't go there without a battalion."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not the Guard," I said, checking my reflection in the mirror and tucking a small, concealed dagger into my sleeve. "I'm just a woman looking to close a very large account."
Kaelen looked at me, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "You're going to get us killed, aren't you?"
"Probably," I said, walking toward the door. "But just think of the tax write-off for a state funeral."