I hand over the documents Leona uncovered to Duke Remiro. These papers are the catalyst for our plan, the match to light the pyre of the king's reign. The man is a paranoid, insecure fool, ruling not through respect but through fear. He sits on a throne stained with his brother's blood—though not as thoroughly as he'd thought, since the "dead" former crown prince is very much alive. Amateur mistake. You never leave loose ends. Loose ends have a nasty habit of tightening into nooses around your neck, and that's exactly what's about to happen.
The duke whistles softly as he flips through the pages. His tan fingers tap rhythmically on the table, a gleam of excitement lighting his eyes.
"I'm once again in awe of her capabilities," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Leona truly is a marvel. A shame she's yours and not mine."
"She's not someone you'd want to owe favors to," I reply, though the smirk on my lips betrays my own admiration.
