We had one day before someone noticed the archive had been opened.
Ren knew this with the certainty of a man who had spent thirty years navigating the machinery of imperial bureaucracy. He didn't explain how he knew. He just said, "One day," and the way he said it left no room for argument.
One day to figure out what to do with a document that could unmake the throne.
We went back to Kaien's residence. Not the official wing — the private one, at the far end of the estate, where the walls were thick and the servants were the kind who had been with the family long enough to know when not to ask questions.
Kaien spread the genealogical record on a low table. Ren produced, from somewhere in his robes, a set of reading spectacles and a magnifying glass, which suggested he had been anticipating something like this for longer than I had realized.
