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Chapter 12
Shadows in the Water
Part I: Beneath the Smoke
The morning rose dull and gray over Rosaire's eastern quarter, the sky hanging low with the weight of mist. The streets were damp from the night's drizzle, carrying the mingled scent of smoke, stagnant water, and rot.
Amethyst—Laurine, once more wrapped in her worn cloak, moved swiftly through the alleys. Her boots left shallow prints in the mud as she passed the shuttered stalls and broken carts of the slums. Her heart was steady, but her thoughts raced.
The samples from the east wells had confirmed her fears. The poison spreading through the streets was no accident. The same residue from the palace's tainted herbs, lead, and another unknown metallic compound now flowed freely through the water barrels of the poor.
Someone was refining the poison, testing it among the forgotten.
"Monsters wear crowns here," she muttered under her breath.
When she arrived at the small courtyard behind Maria's home, she found the scene worse than before. Children lay weak on mats of straw, skin flushed and breathing shallow. The air was thick with fever.
Maria was kneeling by one of them, wringing a cloth into a bowl of cloudy water. Robert darted between the sick, fetching towels and herbs with anxious energy.
"Laurine!" Maria looked up in relief and exhaustion. "It's spreading faster. The water from the east barrels... It's worse today. The fever strikes after only one drink."
Amethyst knelt by a child, checking her pulse, then lifted her eyes toward the barrel by the corner. The water shimmered faintly.
She dipped her fingers in, rubbing them together, and frowned. "The contamination isn't from rot. Someone added a soluble compound. It breaks apart in water... and attacks the body."
Robert swallowed hard. "So... someone's trying to hurt us?"
Her chest tightened as she looked at him... too young to know hatred, already living under its hand.
"They want to silence the streets," she said softly. "The people here are witnesses, Robert. But we'll make sure they're not victims."
She stood, calling to Maria. "Bring me vinegar, charcoal, and linen. I'll make a cleansing solution. And send Robert to fetch clean rainwater from Aito's shop. That's the only safe source left."
Maria nodded and hurried off.
A faint sound behind her made Amethyst glance up. The shadow of a man moved near the narrow archway, tall and still.
Her pulse jumped, though her voice stayed calm. "You have a habit of appearing when things turn grim."
The man stepped forward, his cloak catching the morning light. His gray eyes, cool and sharp, met hers with quiet familiarity.
"Then I seem to have good timing," Lucas said.
Her lips twitched despite herself. "You again."
"Me again," he replied, and the faint amusement in his voice made her look away before he could see the corner of her mouth lift.
He surveyed the courtyard, the sick, the exhausted, the bowl of tainted water. "The fever's not natural," he said simply. "Someone's spreading it."
She blinked. "You knew?"
"I suspected," he said, kneeling beside her. "I've seen the same in the river district. Barrels are distributed from a single merchant. Controlled quantities, tested batch by batch."
Her gaze snapped to him. "You've seen it?"
He nodded. "I came here to confirm what I already feared."
For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of the slum's morning filled the silence, coughing, footsteps, and the soft weeping of mothers.
Then Laurine said quietly, "You speak as though you've been following this for a while."
"I have," he said, meeting her gaze evenly. "And I'm not the only one. There are people who keep watch... people who see what the crown ignores. What you're uncovering... It's more dangerous than you think."
Her breath caught at the weight of his tone. "Danger doesn't frighten me."
"I can tell," he murmured, and something in the way he said it feels like—half admiration, half warning—made her heart skip.
She cleared her throat. "If you truly mean to help, I need to collect samples from each barrel and trace the flow to the supplier. Whoever's behind this is precise. They're testing how far they can spread the sickness before the palace notices."
He nodded. "Then we trace it together."
They moved through the narrow lanes in silence, side by side. Laurine marked each barrel with chalk and sealed small glass vials of water. Lucas covered the path ahead, his senses alert to every rustle and footstep. The ease with which he moved through danger unsettled her, like watching a soldier play at being a shadow.
At one stop, Laurine leaned over a cracked barrel, her reflection rippling in the faintly shimmering surface. Lucas crouched beside her, the warmth of his presence close but steady.
"This one's stronger," she murmured. "The residue's heavier."
He peered into the water, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned closer. "It's deliberate," he said. "The concentration's higher here. Whoever's distributing it knows chemistry. Knows the limits of the body."
She turned to him sharply. "You speak like someone who's seen this before."
He hesitated, then said, "Let's just say I've seen too many die from poisons that wear a noble's name."
Something dark flickered in his voice... pain, perhaps, or memory.
She studied him quietly. He didn't look at her.
For a long moment, the only sound between them was the slow drip of water from the barrel.
Then Laurine said softly, "Whoever's doing this isn't acting alone. The water routes connect to the palace canals. This... reaches higher than a merchant."
Lucas's jaw tightened. "Then you'll be walking straight into their hands."
"I'll walk where I must," she said, lifting her chin. "If I can find the cure, I can find the truth."
He turned to her then, gray eyes glinting in the light. "You're either brave," he said quietly, "or reckless."
"Both," she answered with a faint smile. "It's how I survive."
For a moment, something unspoken hung between them. Then Lucas stepped back, his expression shifting back to calm precision. "I'll watch the path ahead. Stay close."
She nodded, though her pulse had already begun to quicken.
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They worked in tandem through the narrow alleys, Laurine collecting vials while Lucas marked barrels and noted distribution routes. The deeper they went, the clearer the pattern became—specific families, certain blocks, a deliberate rhythm of suffering.
At last, they reached the final cluster of barrels near the canals. Laurine bent to examine one and froze. A faint sigil had been stamped on the side, half hidden by grime: three lilies entwined with a serpent.
She wiped away the dirt. "This mark... I've seen it before."
Lucas leaned closer, his gray eyes sharp. "You know whose crest that is?"
"House Mercier," she murmured. "The Queen's favored suppliers. They manage the water routes and the physician guild imports. They answer to the Blestaires."
He straightened slowly. "Then this isn't just greed. It's orchestration."
Her pulse quickened. "The Queen's council has been using House Mercier for years. If they control the wells, they control who drinks, and who dies."
Lucas studied her for a long moment, expression unreadable. "And now you have proof that could destroy them."
"I have fragments," she said bitterly. "The rest lies buried behind their gates."
"Then we dig," he said simply. Lucas handed her a lantern. "You can prove this?"
"I can," she said, sealing a final vial. "But proving it isn't the same as being heard."
He regarded her quietly. "Then you need protection. People who can act beyond the crown's reach."
"Like you?" she asked.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps."
Her eyes lingered on his, searching for what he wasn't saying. "You're not just a wanderer, Lucas."
"Neither are you just a healer," he said softly.
The silence stretched between them, deep and charged.
Then Lucas straightened, scanning the alley. "We're done here. Let's go before the guards notice we're missing from their prayers."
Laurine gathered her satchel, tucking the vials inside. "Then we move quietly."
The warehouse sat at the edge of the canal, its walls slick with moss and soot. Crates and barrels were stacked under the arching roof, stamped with the same sigil—the serpent and lilies of House Mercier.
Laurine's breath came slow and measured. "There it is."
Lucas's voice dropped to a whisper. "The Queen's shadow wears the face of a merchant."
They slipped inside. The air smelled of brine and rot. Laurine knelt by the nearest crate, scraping residue into her vial. The compound shimmered faintly silver under the lantern light.
"This is refined," she whispered. "Someone's purifying the toxin for controlled dilution."
Lucas scanned the upper rafters. "Meaning they are turning poison into product."
She met his eyes, fire in her voice. "They're murdering the poor to test their purity."
His jaw tightened. "Then we burn their purity to the ground."
She blinked at his words, the quiet ferocity behind them, and for a heartbeat, she saw something unguarded. Not the calm, teasing man who haunted the alleys, but a soldier, hardened by loss.
Her chest ached unexpectedly.
"You've lost someone to this," she said softly.
He looked away. "We all have."
They worked in silence. She filled her final vial and sealed it tight, her hands steady despite the fury beneath her calm. Lucas held the lantern for her, its light painting his features in gold and shadow.
"This will be enough," she said. "It connects the illness to the Queen's own supply lines."
"Enough to accuse?"
"Enough to survive the first accusation," she said.
He smiled faintly. "That's more dangerous than any poison you've found."
She turned to him, her voice quiet. "Then perhaps danger is what keeps me alive."
Their gazes met, hers fierce, his unflinching... and for a moment, the space between them felt too small, too charged.
Then Lucas's expression shifted, the soldier's discipline returning. "We should leave before dawn."
She nodded, though her pulse betrayed her calm. "Yes. Before the serpent wakes."
The streets were still when they returned to Maria's home. The children slept at last, their fevers easing under Laurine's care. Lucas lingered by the doorway, his presence quiet but watchful.
"Thank you," she said softly, adjusting a blanket over a sleeping child.
He glanced at her, his eyes a lil softer than she'd seen before. "You heal others even when it breaks you. That's more power than any crown I've seen."
Her throat tightened. "And you fight ghosts no one else believes in. Maybe we're both foolish."
"Maybe," he said, his voice a low murmur. "But I'd rather be foolish with you than blind with them."
She blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity.
Then he turned, pulling up his hood. "I'll make sure the path is clear. Rest while you can, Laurine."
He vanished into the mist as silently as he'd come.
Amethyst watched him go, the faint glow of the lantern fading down the alley. The night air smelled of smoke and rain, carrying the promise of reckoning.
She glanced at the sealed vials in her satchel. The proof was there, the Queen's corruption, the Church's silence, the blood in the water.
But proof was only a weapon if she lived long enough to wield it.
She turned her face toward the moon, whispering, "Then let's see how deep your faith runs, Isadora."