There was one on top of the wine cellar inventory ledger, one sitting directly on the spy's pillow.
Sebastian wasn't a fool.
He knew exactly who was folding those ducks. And he knew what was happening to the traitors in the household.
'She is not an angel,' Sebastian thought, a grim, deeply amused, highly respectful smirk touching his scarred lips. 'She is a miniature syndicate boss operating a shadow government out of the master bedroom. She has purged the estate's intelligence leaks in less than two days without issuing a single verbal command.'
Well, even if a child is a monster or terrifying Abyss walker, a ghost from hell, a father's worry for their child would be the same.
The veteran knight looked at the heavy oak door, offering a silent, pitying thought to the brooding Archduke inside.
'You worry about the Capital eating her alive, Your Grace,' Sebastian chuckled internally, resting his hand on the hilt of the concealed dagger beneath his tailcoat.
