Chapter 15: Ledger of Stolen Blood

Aldric offered Maren a bargain from the street below while rain soaked his grief-mask and crossbows aimed at her heart. “The ledger for the maid,” he called, voice cracking through the downpour. “You know I can make this clean. I can say Vespera deceived us both.” Maren crouched behind the roof parapet, Nessa pressed against her side, Cael braced on her other flank with one hand clamped to his glass-iron wound. The wound wept black fluid, and his breath came shallow. Rook and two Hollow archers covered the neighboring roof, bows trained on Aldric’s guards. Rain drummed against the slate tiles, washing blood from the gutters. “He is lying,” Nessa breathed. “He is breathing,” Maren said. “So yes.” Cael’s gaze stayed locked on Aldric, but his voice dropped low. “The poison in your arm is spreading.” “Later.” “You keep saying that as if your body accepts appointments.” Maren looked down at the black veins creeping from the crossbow graze. Pain pulsed beneath them, cold and precise, threading toward her shoulder. The crown’s pull had lessened but not vanished. Somewhere in the Glass Court, the rite had gone wrong. She could feel it like weather pressing against her bones—a distant tremor in the root beneath the city. Aldric lifted his voice again. “Maren, listen to reason. Vespera will destroy you. I can protect you from the worst of her if you give me the ledger.” The worst of her. He said it as if he had not signed the order. As if he were a man negotiating curtains instead of a woman’s life. Maren rose. Cael caught her sleeve. “Do not give him a clear shot.” “I am not giving him anything.” She stepped into view with the ledger tucked under her arm. Crossbows shifted. Aldric’s eyes went straight to the book, hungry and afraid. “You look nervous,” she called. “You look poisoned.” “Still prettier than your speech notes.” His jaw tightened. Good. Vanity remained the handle on him. Maren held up the ledger. Rain streaked its leather cover. “I read it, Aldric. Vespera tested branch families. Servants. Children. She marked me viable and Celeste insufficient.” “Then you understand. This is bigger than personal hurt.” For a second, Maren heard the boy she had once loved. The one who spoke about law and stability under summer trees, who had promised her a future built on trust. Then the rain shifted, and she saw the man who had written instructions for her breathing body to be sealed under stone. “Personal hurt?” she said. “You buried me alive.” “Because if the Thorn Crown passed through you, House Elowen would have remained weak.” “No. Because if it passed through me, you would have had to ask instead of own.” Aldric’s composure cracked. “I was going to make you powerful.” “You were going to make me useful.” He spread his hands, a gesture of false surrender. “Come with me now, and I will testify against Vespera. I will say she forced the order. I will say I signed under threat.” Nessa hissed, “He did not.” Maren believed her. She also believed Aldric might betray Vespera if cornered. That did not make him less guilty. It made him frightened, and frightened men were the most dangerous kind. “What do you want?” Maren asked. Aldric’s eyes flicked toward the Glass Court dome glowing beyond the rooftops. “Celeste cannot hold the crown. Vespera will need you alive now. I can stand between you and her.” “You want to replace her as my keeper.” “I want to survive.” At last, an honest sentence. Maren opened the ledger to the final page and held it high enough for the nearest guards to see. Rain blurred the ink, but the names were legible. “Then survive this. Your name appears in the payment column six times.” The guards shifted. One glanced at Aldric. Aldric’s face went white. “That page is false.” “Is it? You paid for blood tests from the Vale account. You paid the priest. You paid the physician who mixed the burial dose.” Maren turned a page, her voice steady despite the poison burning in her arm. “You also paid for Nessa to be transferred to Rainmoth House before anyone knew the coffin was empty.” The street was very quiet now. Rook called from the neighboring roof, amused, “I enjoy courtship in the capital.” Aldric drew his sword. “Shoot her.” Only half the crossbows lifted. That hesitation saved Maren’s life. Cael moved, shadows snapping out to drag two guards from their feet. Rook’s archers fired. Nessa grabbed Maren and pulled her down as bolts struck the parapet. One sliced through the ledger’s cover, pinning it briefly to stone. Maren tore it free and ran. They crossed the roofline toward the old bell tower, boots slipping on wet slate. Rain lashed their faces. But Aldric knew the district. He and three loyal guards cut them off at the tower bridge. The canal roared below, dark and swollen. “Enough,” Aldric said. Rain ran down his blade. “Give me the ledger.” Maren handed Nessa the book. “Run to Rook.” “No.” “Witnesses must survive.” Nessa’s eyes filled with fury, but she obeyed. She slipped behind Cael as he advanced on the guards, his shadow stretching unnaturally long. Aldric lunged for the ledger. Maren stepped into his path. For a heartbeat, he could have stopped. He did not. His shoulder slammed into her, driving them both against the tower rail. Pain burst through her poisoned arm. The rail cracked. “You ruin everything,” he snarled. “No.” Maren gripped his collar with her good hand. “I finally arrived after you made the mess.” She drove her forehead into his nose. Aldric staggered, blood streaming from his nostrils. Maren seized the chance, yanked the signet chain from his throat, and tore it free. His private seal swung from her fist, heavy with rain and proof. His eyes widened. “Give that back.” “Why? Afraid your hand might keep speaking?” Cael threw the last guard from the bridge and turned. “Maren, now.” She backed away, holding Aldric’s seal. The ledger was safe with Nessa. The ribbon was hidden at Maren’s waist. The order lay against her heart. Voice. Hand. Witness. The three proofs had names now. Aldric wiped blood from his mouth and smiled with sudden, ugly calm. “You think proof saves people? Vespera will make the court choose power over truth. She always does.” Maren looked toward the Glass Court, where green light flashed once against the clouds. “Then I will make truth more dangerous than power.” Behind Aldric, a palace horn sounded. Not alarm. Summons. He listened, and fear returned to his face. The coronation had failed badly enough to call every noble back to court. Maren closed her fist around the stolen seal. Blood, secret, betrayal, and the next door aligned at last.