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And then the media program autoplays the next file.

We all snap forward as it begins, surprised. Pace is usually really good about archiving pointless activations, but Wicker’s eyes are intent on the screen as it starts up. Of course. He can’t resist a half-naked chick.

What we get is just the Lucia girl, entering the room and leaning up against the wall, like she’s waiting. It’s not long, though, before someone else enters.

“Wait, wait. Hit pause,” Wicker says, pointing to the screen. “Is thather?”

Sure enough, Verity is frozen on the screen, her wide eyes fixed on Lavinia. She’s wearing a different outfit than the one in the last video, and her hair is pulled up. In the last shot, her hair was down.

“What day is this?” I ask.

Pace checks the timestamp, brows knitting together. “... last Friday?”

Sweat prickles my back. “Friday. The day after her family dinner.”

Pace stares hard at the screen, confusion furrowing his forehead. “That was in the morning, right after I made my second deposit. We should have both been asleep in her bed when this was made.”

It’s impossible, because there she is talking to Lucia. Wicker and I share a harried look, because the Princess doesn’t just get to waltz about Forsyth wherever and whenever she wants. She’s to have a chaperone. Security. Her fucking Princes.

Pace snaps upright, his panicked eyes fixed to Father. “I check her tracker every night, sir. As far as I know, she never left the Palace.”

Father’s eyes narrow. “Clearly, she did.”

“But she must have–”

“Shut up!” Father barks, shooting him a glare. “Turn up the volume and press play.” Stone-faced, Pace obeys, and the tinny sound of Verity’s voice emerges from the speakers.

“Last night, when I was… with Pace, he was asking me all these questions…”

The Duchess’ head tilts.“What kinds of questions?”

“About family dinner—and you.”

Lucia asks,“Me? Specifically?”

Verity looks down.“He thinks you’re a traitor. I mean, he thinks I’m a traitor, so this is pretty on brand for him, but I don’t know. He just wouldn’t let it go.”Then, so quiet that I have to pitch forward to hear her, she adds, “He freaked me out.”

Lucia’s expression turns pensive.“Pace just got out of prison, right?”

“Yeah.”

I glance over at Pace, watching his eyes harden as they talk about him, although it’s hard to hear over my pulse throbbing in my ears. Pace’s expression turns to stone as they discuss him and his paranoia, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

The fucked up thing is, a part of me is so goddamn happy about this recording. It’s proof that Pace was telling the truth–that he was trying to dig deeper, find something to bring to Father. That should absolve him, shouldn’t it?

But one look at Father’s fiery eyes, trained to the girls on the screen, makes it clear that it doesn’t matter. His ire is directed elsewhere now.

“Verity,”Lavinia says,“it’s fine. What could they know? We barely talk. You’ve hardly given me any real intel anyway.”

Almost as one entity, our attention hones in on them.

“You’re catching feelings for your Princes,”Lucia says,“that’s why you haven’t been telling us anything useful, because a part of you is protecting them.”

Has she? Has she beenprotectingus? From who? The Dukes?

I try to catch Wicker’s eye, but he’s staring hard at the screen.

“I do know something,”Verity is suddenly saying.“Wicker’s father is a Kayes. He’s the Baron legacy.”