JingYi folded the letter carefully. “And the underbelly of that marketplace?”
“Is where men buy what should never be for sale.”
“Like an Omega?”
She thought of the Omegas who’d fallen into traffickers’ hands. How easily she might’ve been among them—the vial of crushed crystal, a body going limp.
“Do you think Lord Fortier is tied to all this?” she asked.
Alexander rose from his chair and began to pace. “Bertrand is ambitious, but this reeks of something larger. If he is involved, he isn’t acting alone.”
“Will you inform King Ferdinand?”
Alexander’s gaze darted to her. “Do you think I should?”
Five words. He’d asked as though her opinion mattered—not out of politeness, but because he truly wanted to know. She heard it in his voice. Felt it in the way he held her gaze.
JingYi placed the letter on his desk. “If you accuse without proof, Bertrand will twist it back on you. The Crown trusts him. You—” She hesitated, then stated plainly, “You carry your father’s shadow. There is a risk the king may call it jealousy, not truth.”
He didn’t argue.
“But silence is dangerous, too,” she added. “If word reaches the king from another source, it will seem as though you tried to bury it and neglect your duty.”
She saw his jaw worked at the word ‘duty’—a word that had once been used to reduce her as a liability. Now, she used it as a lever.
“At least,” she pressed, “send word that the crystals have surfaced beyond the mines. Do not name Bertrand, not yet. Only warn the Crown that purple limyerite is being moved where it shouldn’t, as your cousin outlined. That way, you aren’t complicit in silence.”
His expression shifted—a flash of something gone too quickly to name. Finally, he exhaled. “A general warning, but enough to show vigilance.”
“And meanwhile, you look for proof. Something Bertrand cannot explain away.”
Alexander studied her, and this time, she saw respect flickering in his gaze. A foreign sentiment, but it sent a thrill down her spine. The decision seemed to settle something in him. “I’ll write the missive and dispatch it tonight.”
“And Daan?” she asked softly. “When he is well . . .”
“If he’s involved, he must answer to the law, even if he is a pawn.” Alexander’s tone was hard, yet she heard the strain beneath it—a lord caught between his duty to the king and his people’s welfare. “I will try to get his testimony. The Crown’s justice would offer no such chance.”
JingYi nodded. This was no longer just about healing the sick. It was about unmasking a rot that reached from mines to the marketplace, and possibly to the throne itself. And she, an Omega in a foreign land, was now squarely in its path.
Alexander held her gaze across the desk, the firelight dancing between them. In his eyes, she saw the same resolve.
For now, at least, they were allies.
CHAPTER 25
JINGYI
The next morning, dawn was only a faint blush in the sky when JingYi stepped into the stable yard. The air was damp from the lingering fog, smelling of hay, leather, and wet earth. She drew her cloak closer, soft wool shifting against the skirt Aliz and Yrenna had altered—designed specially for riding, with slits for trousers beneath. Practical and proper.
Alexander was already there—a tall, steadfast figure in the grey morning. The sight of him struck her with a sudden, physical clarity. Suddenly, the ground didn’t feel as solid anymore.
Last night, after supper, he’d found her on a bench in one of the window alcoves, a book on her lap.
‘Do you still wish to learn to ride?’he had asked.
She’d looked up, startled.‘I . . . yes, I do.’
‘Then, I’ll teach you.’The words were simple, final.‘Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready.’