The carriage ride back from the Scales Hall left four words etched in Blackthorn Evangeline's mind, and they remained there still. ——Compensation. Who. When. Where. No answers yet. Days had passed since that parting in the corridor with Adrian Vestyr. How to pursue the transport records of the Thorn Crown necklace next, how to identify the independent merchants operating outside the Scales Company——such details were progressing steadily. The mental map was gaining precision bit by bit. Yet somewhere, the sensation of sand mixed in refused to fade. Seated in the study of Blackthorn Manor, Evangeline closed her notebook. The candle flame swayed quietly. Winter dusk spread beyond the window, and the stone pavement of the noble district reflected the orange afterglow in thin layers. A knock sounded at the door. "Miss," an elderly servant's voice called. One of the twelve servants remaining in Blackthorn Manor, a man who had served this house for years. "A carriage from the convent