The letter sat on Isla's desk, its words burned into her memory.
*"The game is already in motion. Trust no one, not even the king. Look for the whispers in the shadows. They will lead you to the truth."*
The room was quiet save for the faint crackling of the fire, but Isla felt as though the words themselves were echoing, ricocheting inside her mind. She had read the letter at least five times, searching for some hidden meaning, some clue that might make sense of it all, but it was no use. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of questions and half-formed theories, none of which led to any conclusions.
Clara sat across from her, legs curled up beneath her in one of the plush armchairs. She had been quietly observing Isla's growing frustration for the better part of an hour, holding her tongue until now.
"You know," Clara said finally, breaking the silence, "you're going to drive yourself mad if you keep staring at that thing."
Isla glanced up, her brow furrowed. "What else am I supposed to do? Whoever's sending these letters knows something. Something important."
"Or they're trying to manipulate you," Clara countered. "Have you considered that this could all be some elaborate scheme to throw you off balance?"
"Of course I have," Isla said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "But what if it's not? What if there's something I'm supposed to figure out, and I'm missing it?"
Clara tilted her head, studying her friend. "Alright," she said, setting her teacup down on the table between them. "Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that these letters are meant to help you. What's your next move?"
Isla hesitated, her gaze drifting back to the letter. "It says to look for whispers in the shadows. That they'll lead me to the truth."
"Whispers in the shadows," Clara repeated, her tone skeptical. "That's not exactly specific."
"I know," Isla said, running a hand through her hair. "But it's the only lead I have."
Clara leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Alright. So where do we start looking for these 'whispers'?"
Isla opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the door to the library creaked open, and Thomas stepped inside. His expression was unusually grim, and Isla felt her stomach knot at the sight.
"My lady," Thomas said, bowing slightly. "There's something you need to see."
---
Thomas led them to the stables, where the usually bustling area was eerily quiet. The stablehands, who were normally preoccupied with grooming the horses or tending to the tack, stood clustered near the far wall, their faces pale and anxious. As Isla approached, they parted to reveal what had captured their attention.
A man lay sprawled on the ground, his clothes torn and his face bruised. His breathing was shallow, and his hands were bound behind his back with a length of coarse rope. A small knife lay discarded nearby, its blade glinting in the dim light.
"Who is he?" Isla asked, her voice low.
"We found him near the edge of the property," Thomas said. "He was trying to sneak in through the woods."
Clara frowned, stepping closer to get a better look. "Do you think he's connected to the letters?"
"It's possible," Thomas said. "But he hasn't said a word since we caught him."
Isla stared at the man, her mind racing. If he was connected to the letters, then this could be her chance to get some answers. But if he wasn't…
"Wake him up," she said finally.
Thomas nodded and gestured for one of the stablehands to fetch a bucket of water. A moment later, the man was jolted awake by a cold splash to the face. He gasped, coughing and sputtering as he blinked up at them.
"Who are you?" Isla demanded, stepping forward.
The man didn't respond. He simply stared up at her with wide, fearful eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You were caught trespassing on private property," Thomas said, his tone firm. "State your business, or we'll have no choice but to turn you over to the authorities."
The man's gaze darted between them, his lips trembling. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was sent."
"By who?" Isla pressed.
The man hesitated, his hands twisting against the ropes that bound them. "I… I can't say."
"You *will* say," Thomas growled, stepping closer. "Or you'll regret it."
The man flinched, his eyes filling with tears. "Please," he begged. "I can't. If I tell you, they'll kill me."
"Who?" Clara asked, her voice softer than Thomas's. "Who will kill you?"
The man didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I can't," he whispered again. "I can't."
Isla frowned, her frustration mounting. Whoever this man was, he clearly knew something. But fear had rendered him useless, and she doubted they would get any more out of him without resorting to measures she wasn't willing to take.
"Take him to the cellar," she said finally. "Keep him under guard until we figure out what to do with him."
Thomas nodded and motioned for two of the stablehands to lift the man to his feet. As they dragged him away, Isla felt a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. There were bigger things at stake.
---
Later that evening, Isla found herself standing on the balcony outside her chambers, staring out at the darkened gardens below. The events of the day had left her restless, and the cool night air did little to calm her racing thoughts.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her reverie, and she turned to see Clara stepping into the room.
"You're brooding," Clara said, crossing the room to join her on the balcony.
"I'm thinking," Isla corrected, though her tone lacked conviction.
Clara leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the stars above. "About the man we found?"
"About everything," Isla admitted. "The letters, the ambush, the whispers of rebellion… It's all connected. I can feel it."
Clara nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Do you think Adrian knows?"
Isla hesitated. "I don't know. But I think it's time I found out."
"How?" Clara asked.
"I'm going to the capital," Isla said, her voice firm. "I need answers, and I'm not going to get them sitting here."
Clara frowned, her brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure that's a good idea? The capital isn't exactly safe right now."
"Nowhere is safe," Isla said. "Not anymore."
Clara sighed. "Alright. If you're going, I'm coming with you."
Isla smiled faintly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."