The next morning, I felt like a man walking on a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Every smile felt brittle, every nod a calculated risk. The secret of Harren's involvement in my predecessor's death was a cold weight in my gut, but my face had to be a placid, unreadable mask.
The destination for the day was not the estate but the capital. Darius had business at the Ministry of Finance, and I, as his newly minted spouse, was expected to accompany him. It was a public appearance, a statement. Another piece on the board being moved.
We arrived at the Ministry's grand hall, a cavernous room of marble and echoing whispers where minor nobles and merchants waited to petition for favors or settlements. It was the perfect place to be seen. And, as it turned out, the perfect place to see others.
