Demon let out a single sigh—short, almost inaudible—as he closed the compartment again, replicating with absolute care the exact order of the runes the Duchess had activated. There couldn't be even a glimmer out of place, an incorrect interval, a click that sounded different from the original.
If she came back later to inspect and noticed any irregularity…
Very well. He preferred not to die inside an elegant suit.
When the latch slid back into place with a slight, almost too polished sound, Demon touched his lapel and made sure the small folded map was firmly inside the suit, aligned against his body so as not to be noticed even if someone embraced him.
Elizabeth… The name flashed through his mind like a cold blade.
The connection with her voice—that venomous softness, that command disguised as gentleness—was so clear he could almost hear her whispering:
"Take whatever is in the Duke's safe. No matter how."
He chuckled to himself, a quiet, low laugh.
