"I assume everything has been going well with the water source, Lord Carvalho?" Cecilia asked, her tone light and conversational.
Hettor's posture straightened, his expression turning solemn and respectful. "Thanks to you, Saintess. The clean flow has been a blessing to my people."
"I am honored to have been able to help," Cecilia replied with a modest dip of her head.
It had seemed like nothing, at first. Just disparate pieces of gossip and data floating across her desk three years ago. The kind of bureaucratic chaff her aides would usually filter out.
But her mind, cursed and blessed to never let a puzzle lie, had started connecting the dots.
It began with the society pages, of all things. A small, frivolous article buried between announcements of royal garden parties and new fashion trends. Baron Stewart, a merchant known for his vault-like ambition and deeper pockets, was photographed at the lavish marriage of his beloved niece to the son of the Wereowl Tribe's chief.
