Mariah’s smile faltered. Just slightly. But then she waved a hand.
“Maybe they’re just over-exaggerating. You know how people talk.”
Wrenlow nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t soften.
And as Mariah hummed again, gathering her things for the journey to Ariya’s manor, Wrenlow sat back, brows furrowed beneath her scarf.
Something about it smelled off. Not like lies.
More like… a setup.
Mariah rose from her stool, folding the linen gently into her bag. “I’ll be off before noon. Don’t want to keep the Froste guards waiting. Can you believe it? Me, in that house.”
Wrenlow’s needles had stilled completely.
She looked up. Her voice came slow, low—like distant thunder.
“Mariah.”
Mariah paused mid-tuck, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “Mm?”
“If you get there… and they ask you to
