Crown prince already knew about arrived boy.
One false report. One failure. And the guild that had been the most trusted source of intelligence in the capital for twenty years was finished.
Clients canceled contracts. Agents defected. The network crumbled.
Because if the Information Guild could be wrong about something this important— about the boy, about the kidnapping, about the thing that every faction in the city was searching for— then they could be wrong about anything.
And Latina— the woman who had built the guild from nothing, who had spent fifteen years climbing from street informer to guild leader, who had lost her leg in a deal gone wrong and had kept going, kept fighting, kept building— was finished.
She glared at Raven.
"You did it intentionally," she said. Her voice was low. Dangerous. The voice of a woman who has been played and who knows it and who is furious. "Right?"
Raven looked at her.
