Elena was still dwelling on last night's events. Those characters she'd written in the margin of the ledger: "Requires Confirmation." Leon's golden eyes. The weight of the words "seventeen years"—all of it had been circling the edges of her mind even while she worked through the morning preparations. (But today is irrelevant. Morning inventory. That's all.) She'd passed through Central Market Street, collected eggs from Hannah Müller at the specialty food shop "Amber Spoon," and turned into the alley on her way back an hour before opening. The bottle of milk from Petrika Village was heavy in her hands. The royal capital of Blanche was still quiet in the early dawn, with thin morning mist drifting across the stone pavement. Elena turned the corner of the alley and stopped dead. Seven enormous wooden crates were stacked in front of the Moonlit Pavilion's entrance. "...What?" The word escaped her. Her voice was hoarse. Standing beside the crates with his chest puffed out was a sin