Hui’s fingers tapped twice on the side of his wine glass.
To anyone else, the motion was just an unconscious rhythm, but between him and Snow, it was a complete sentence.
His nostrils shifted less than half an inch toward the hall’s side door.
Snow caught it.
Hui had sent a signal.
He gave a slight nod, set his half-finished juice glass on the nearby long table, and turned to Olivia.
“Princess, shall we take a walk outside? The scenery looks nice out there.”
Olivia held her water glass, her expression blank for a beat.
She looked at Snow, then out the window—what was out there?
Snowdrifts.
Ice.
Pitch-black sky.
Maybe a few bare trees.
What did he mean by “nice scenery”?
She was about to question him when Elenora spoke first.
“If the lady wants to go, no need to force yourself.”
“Wait, there’s nothing worth seeing out there, is there?”
“I heard auroras appear over Urske at night. I’d love to see them myself, but my father never lets me…”
“Then if you’ll excuse us for a moment.”
Olivia studied Snow’s expression—seemed like something was up.
Urske was close to the southern border, there was no way auroras appeared there, and the scenery outside certainly wasn’t anything special—it was freezing out there, after all.
Elenora’s almond-colored eyes lingered on Olivia’s face for a moment.
Her expression was gentle, her tone carrying no hint of probing.
The sleeves of her priestess robe swayed slightly as she shifted her posture.
“Snow, what are you—”
“Just come take a look…”
Before Olivia could answer, Snow had already taken her wrist naturally.
The motion was light, as if rehearsed, but the direction was clear—toward the side door.
Her skirt spun half a turn from the pull, silver-thread frost patterns catching the candlelight.
“Hey, Snow, what the hell are you doing—”
The side door was on the east side of the banquet hall, an inconspicuous arched wooden door with frost-pattern carvings on the frame.
The corridor outside was carpeted in the same deep red, but the wall sconces were dimmer.
At the end of the corridor, a glass door led to the garden.
Snow pulled her along a few steps before releasing her wrist.
He glanced back down the corridor, confirmed no one had followed, then leaned in and spoke a few words in a low voice.
His voice was so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the distant string ensemble’s lingering notes.
Olivia listened, her silver pupils contracting slightly.
She glanced down the corridor, then at Snow, and slowly nodded.
“…Trouble. This is trouble.”
Meanwhile, on the second-floor side gallery of the banquet hall.
Harod rested one hand on his cane, his knuckles lightly stroking the eagle’s eye carved from ebony.
Black Hat stood at his side, his brim pressed lower than before.
The string ensemble downstairs had resumed playing; the prelude of a new movement rose through the floor, dull and drawn out.
Harod looked down from behind the arched stone pillar, his gaze tracking his daughter’s figure.
Elenora was still standing by the buffet table, conversing politely with two bear-clan noblewomen.
“How’s the situation?”
“The young lady just finished her talks. They… seem to have gotten along well.”
Black Hat’s voice was very low.
The hem of his coat had stopped dripping.
Harod didn’t answer.
His thumb paused on the eagle’s eye.
Downstairs, Elenora was turning her head to listen to a noblewoman beside her, a small smile at the corner of her mouth.
He narrowed his eyes for two seconds, then turned back.
“Good. As long as Elenora is happy. Keep watching what that Grand Duke does next.”
Black Hat bowed his head slightly, his brim casting a curved shadow across the marble column.
His fingers felt around inside his coat pocket, pulled out a small leather notebook, then tucked it back in, as if confirming something was still there.
“And the master, sir…?”
“I’m heading back in two days.”
Harod continued leaning on his cane, eyes closed, listening to the string ensemble play.
Perhaps because he and that Black Hat man were both humans, the war-bear clan didn’t give humans much regard anyway, so there was no need for him to chat with that Grand Duke—and no topic worth discussing, either.
In the garden.
The Akhamatova night was cold enough to freeze the air itself.
Snowdrifts reflected the warm yellow light spilling from the banquet hall’s tall windows, spreading in alternating bands of light and shadow across the garden path.
Shrubs were trimmed into neat rectangles, covered in a thick layer of snow, with only a few dry branches poking out at the edges.
Far off, the direction of Saint Sergey Mountain was pure darkness, the peak fully merged into the night, save for a faint, barely visible blue glow near the summit.
Two bear-clan guards stood outside the garden’s side door.
Dark gray uniforms, short swords and axes at their waists.
Puffs of white breath dispersed in front of their faces, quickly blown away by the night wind.
One of them rubbed his hands together and muttered something in Urske.
“Damn weather. How is it this cold out here?”
“Come on, we’re off in nine hours. Just hang in there.”
Just as the two were settling in to coast through the remaining time, several dark figures silently fanned out from behind the shrubbery.
Not ordinary soldiers—too fast, too light on their feet, their lowered breathing nearly indistinguishable from the wind.
Black imperial uniforms, no insignia on the shoulders, only a tiny silver badge pinned at the collar.
The edges of their short swords and axes were coated in matte black, catching no gleam at all in the snow’s reflection.
The leader was a burly man with a thick beard, bear ears pressed flat against his closely shorn hair.
He raised two fingers and made a circle in the air.
The dark figures behind him split apart immediately, moving in pairs to creep up behind the two guards.
Both guards were covered at almost the same time.
The blunt face of a short-handled axe struck the back of their skulls;
The dull thud was muffled by the palm clamped over their mouths, compressed into a soft sound.
Their bodies went limp and were dragged into the depths of the shrubs.
Two long drag marks were left in the snow, quickly scuffed over by another soldier’s foot.
After about two minutes, the side door was pushed open from outside by a crack, cold wind gusting in with snow pellets, leaving a thin patch of fine droplets on the corridor carpet.
“It’s handled. Two outside. Shift change is in twenty minutes.”
A soldier lowered his voice to report to the companion standing just inside the side door, while pulling his shirt out from his belt to wipe snowmelt off the short sword’s grip.
“What about inside?”
“Three inside, all in the storage room. Two patrolling the doorway, one. The captain said wait for the signal.”
“What’s the signal?”
“All lights out in the main hall. Or Captain Pavlov comes in person.”
“Where’s the captain?”
“Still in the banquet hall, drinking with the nobles.”
The soldier re-sheathed his cleaned short sword and looked deeper into the corridor.
At the end, the archway leading to the banquet hall still glowed warm yellow, the music continued, and the clink of glasses drifted faintly through the air.
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