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Sabien shrugged.

Dagmara returned to the desk. “Did you find anything else?”

Shaking his head, Sabien replied, “Only a stamp he uses to sign documents and more paperwork.” He returned his attention to the handful of correspondence with Flaustra.

A stamp to sign documents…or maybe to sign false aliases for the three assassins?

“Did you check for false bottoms?”

The captain glanced up from the stack of letters he was holding, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “I love the way you think.”

Brushing aside the compliment, Dagmara proceeded to open each drawer, examining every inch of it. Sabien continued to flip through the pages. She was grateful for having him here so that he could read the correspondence in Flaustran.

Reaching the final drawer, she almost lost hope. Then she felt a latch, as small as an earring. She pressed against it, but nothing happened. Twisting it, she heard a click. Another compartment cracked open perpendicular to the drawer. Holding her breath, Dagmara slid it open.

The world stopped as Dagmara’s mind went blank. Fear coursed through her veins as she stared down at a mask. It was pure white, with a dent on the chin and a scrape on one cheek. On the center of the forehead was a black symbol. The symbol of the First Prince.

Her heart began to pound in her chest. She wanted to reach out and pick it up, to make sure it was real, but her hands were shaking. The last time she saw this mask, it was on the face of the assassin who killed Aleksy—the assassin who made it out alive.

There was one other item in the drawer. It was an orange bottle, half the size of a perfume bottle. Dagmara picked it up and swirled it, examining the contents.

She could guess what it was by the color. Very few liquids were bright orange.

Popping off the lid, Dagmara brought it to her nose.

Smierc.

This was the poison that was used on the terrace. How Claude had acquired an entire bottle from Azurem, she had no idea. All she knew was that this was plenty of poison to use on the terrace and later frame her for the incident.

“I think this is the evidence we need,” said Sabien, waving a piece of paper in the air. “I guess he planned to send it after the wedding.”

Clutching the bottle in her palm, Dagmara waited for Sabien to read. The thunder rumbled outside, increasing in intensity as the panic rose in her chest.

“Ishani,” Sabien read the letter, translating from Flaustran. “Now that Princess Magdalena is my wife, I have full access to Azurem. We can finally remove her from the picture.”

Dagmara’s stomach flipped. Did Claude know Magda was in Flaustra and that was why he was writing to a woman named Ishani? Or was Claude planning to kill Dagmara tonight now that they were legally wed?

Sabien continued, “Finally the entire Krol line will be gone. I’ve done my part with Azurem as promised, now it’s time you did yours and handled the Flaustran Guardians. Stop wasting my time, otherwise, I’ll get rid of you too.”

Dagmara could barely stand. She backed away, sitting on the bed to keep herself from falling. The betrayal ripped her apart from the inside out. She had fallen in love with Claude, only to discover what she had believed from the beginning…he was the murderer behind it all.

Sabien knew better than to console Dagmara. He placed the pages on the desk and waited for her to meet his gaze. “He still believes you are Princess Magdalena, so he will kill you. And it is only a matter of time before he discovers I have magic, and will execute me too. We have to get out of here.”

His words barely registered. She gripped the vial of poison in her palm. “I can’t believe it.”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Sabien countered.

No. It wasn’t. That was the problem. She had wanted to believe Claude was innocent. Maybe she missed all the signs because she was blinded by her emotions.

“But there’s still an assassin out there,” Dagmara objected. “Teos said the assassin who escaped after the coronation had a description of a man with red hair and a beard.”

“Couldn’t it have been Claude himself?” Sabien asked.

“No, I said—”

Dagmara froze. It could have been Claude himself. Whoever was behind the mask — whoever she faced off in the cathedral could have been Claude. She had watched him disguise himself time and time again. The wound he received in Nouchenne he hid from her, he hid his wound from Reon in Sailonne, and not to mention the scar down half his face. Who is to say he didn’t make the knight at the Azuremi border see what Claude wanted them to see?

She was so foolish. All the signs were there and she had missed them all.