Chapter 248

Chapter 248
Juno's POV

The atmosphere at the breakfast table was colder than the wind outside.

I speared a strawberry and brought it to my mouth, letting my gaze drift across the table. Freya sat across from me, head slightly bowed, stirring her oatmeal like it had personally offended her. Augustin was to my right, spine straight, flipping through a stack of documents.

Everyone who knew the truth about Isabelle was wearing the same mask this morning.

"Elton's not here today?" I asked casually, glancing at his usual seat.

"He went to Goldenvale to see his son." Amelia answered from the far end of the table, her voice warm, her smile easy. "Left early yesterday morning."

I nodded and reached for my tea.

You're thinking again. Augustin's voice came through the mate link. He didn't look up from his documents.

About Isabelle. I sent it back without hesitation.

A pause. Then— So am I.

I set my cup down and kept my expression neutral. Across the table, Amelia was saying something to Scarlett about honeymoon destinations, her tone bright and conversational.

"I was thinking," Amelia said, turning her smile toward me, "that for the honeymoon, somewhere befitting royalty would be ideal. I have a few places in mind. Private coastlines, complete security detail, full discretion." She tilted her head. "I'll look into it personally."

"That's very thoughtful," I said.

Augustin's hand found my knee under the table. A brief press. Later, he linked me. We'll talk later.

I covered his hand with mine and said nothing.



The moment breakfast ended, I excused myself.

Scarlett caught my eye on the way out. Freya was already two steps ahead of us, moving quietly toward the Gamma wing. I followed without a word, and Scarlett fell into step beside me.

Freya's room was at the end of the corridor. She closed the door behind us and turned around, arms crossed.

"She played all of us," Freya said flatly.

"Yes." I sat on the edge of the window bench. "She did."

"The crying." Scarlett dropped onto the settee, jaw tight. "The begging. The whole performance about Matthew—"

"All of it calculated." I leaned back against the cool glass. "Every single moment."

Freya exhaled slowly. "I almost felt sorry for her. When she was sitting in that room, hands shaking, talking about her father—" She stopped. "I actually believed her."

"So did I," I admitted.

The words sat heavy between us.

I had believed her. I'd taken off her silver bracelet. I'd sat across from her and thought, she's just a frightened woman who made bad choices under pressure. I'd made a judgment call, and I'd been wrong.

It was a hard thing to admit. But ignoring it would be worse.

"She loves him," I said. "Whoever the Sovereign is, she genuinely loves him. That part isn't fake."

Scarlett frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Because no one sustains that level of performance on strategy alone." I looked out the window, watching the courtyard below. "She was terrified of her father. She resented Matthew. She was desperate to escape. All of that was real, it just wasn't the whole story." I paused. "She got pregnant for him. She helped organize a rebellion for him. That's not obedience. That's devotion."

"Dangerous devotion," Freya said quietly.

"The worst kind." I turned back to them. "She wanted to bind him to her. The pregnancy, the rebellion, the loyalty, she was building a life around a man who sees her as a useful piece on a board."

Silence.

Then Scarlett asked, "So what do we do?"

I let the question breathe for a moment before I answered.

"We already did something." I kept my voice even. "Before she left, I had Delta warriors on her. She hasn't been out of our sight since she cleared the front gate."

Freya's eyes widened slightly. Scarlett sat up straighter.

"You didn't say anything," Scarlett said.

"I didn't want it getting back to her through anyone's expression at the breakfast table." I glanced between them. "Now you know."

"Why not arrest her immediately?" Freya asked.

"Because Isabelle alone isn't enough." I stood, moving toward the center of the room. "She's a thread. We pull her in right now, and the rest of the web snaps loose before we've mapped it. But if we let her move, she'll lead us straight to him."

Freya absorbed that. Slowly, she nodded.

"And Noah?" Scarlett asked.

"I'm sending him as reinforcement this morning." I checked the time. "Wilson's team is solid, but if Isabelle makes contact with the Sovereign, or someone close to him, I want backup that can move fast."

The room held a particular kind of quiet after that. The kind that meant everyone was thinking the same thing and nobody wanted to say it first.

It was Freya who spoke.

"You're letting her walk around out there. Pregnant. Knowing what she knows."

"I know."

"And if something goes wrong..."

"Then I made the wrong call." I met her eyes. "But right now, she is the only person with a direct line to whoever is running this. Levenston, Charles, every name we've pulled out of that interrogation room, none of them gave us the Sovereign. Isabelle might."

A beat.

"We watch her," I said. "And we wait."

We didn't have to wait long.

Less than three hours later, my phone buzzed on Freya's side table. I picked it up.

Wilson's voice was clipped and efficient. "She's at a hotel in Suncrest. Has been since last night. Twenty minutes ago, a man arrived and went up to her room. He just came back down. They're in the restaurant now."

I straightened. "Name?"

"Francis Vasquez."

My hand tightened around the phone.

I looked up. Scarlett and Freya were both watching me.

"Keep the detail in place," I said. "Full coverage on the meeting. I want to know every word if you can get close enough. And send Noah in, tell him to hold back unless I say otherwise."

"Understood."

I hung up and sat with it for a second.

"Vasquez?" Scarlett asked.

"Francis Vasquez." I set the phone down. "Long Elder Council history. Connections that run wider than we've been able to trace." I exhaled through my nose. "We suspected him. We just didn't have anything solid."

"And now he's sitting across from Isabelle in a hotel restaurant," Freya said.

"Yes." I echoed.

Scarlett tilted her head. "Is he the Sovereign?"

"I don't know." I picked the phone back up. "That's why we're watching instead of moving."

The second call came from Hendrix.

He kept it short. He always did.

"Breakfast meeting ran about forty minutes. Things got heated around the halfway point." A brief pause. "Vasquez was doing most of the talking. Loud enough that the table next to them relocated."

"What was the argument about?"

"His status. He kept using the word fugitive, said it more than once. Complained that he was exposed, that promises had been broken." Hendrix's tone stayed professional. "She told him she was waiting for instruction from the Sovereign. Said it directly. Didn't lower her voice."

I went very still.

She said it out loud. In a restaurant. In public.

Either Isabelle was less careful than she appeared, or she wanted Vasquez rattled enough that he'd make a mistake.

I wasn't sure which possibility worried me more.

"Vasquez?" I asked.

"Lost his temper completely. Management came over. He was asked to leave." A pause. "He left."

"And Isabelle?"

"Still in the restaurant. Ordered more coffee. Sitting alone now."

I thought for a moment.

"Stay on Isabelle," I said. "Let Vasquez go."

A brief silence. "You don't want a tail on him?"

"Not yet." I could hear Hendrix's restraint, the ability to follow an order even when instinct pushed against it. "If we split the team, we risk losing her. And right now, she's the one I need."

"Copy that."

I ended the call.

Freya and Scarlett were still watching me. I set the phone on the arm of the chair and looked at both of them.

"Charles was telling the truth," I said. "Isabelle is connected to the rebellion. Not peripherally, she's operating from inside it. The Vasquez meeting confirms it."

Freya let out a slow breath.

Scarlett said nothing. She was already nodding, jaw set, the way she looked when she was deciding something.

The three of us sat with that for a moment.

Then Freya, with impeccable timing, said, "Can we please go shopping."

I blinked.

Scarlett turned to look at her.

"I'm serious," Freya said, and she actually sounded it. "The coronation. The Purple Moon wedding. We haven't bought a single thing and the timeline is not forgiving." She spread her hands. "I cannot think about rebellion infrastructure on an empty emotional tank. I need retail therapy and I need it today."

A laugh cracked out of me before I could stop it.

Scarlett pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. "She has a point."

"We're monitoring an active surveillance operation," I pointed out.

"And Wilson and Hendrix are handling it professionally without us hovering." Freya raised an eyebrow. "Augustin rebuilt his authority in that council chamber. He's about to be formally crowned. You're marrying him under the Purple Moon." She gestured at me. "You deserve something beautiful to wear."

I thought of Augustin.

Something warm moved through my chest.

She's not wrong, Seraphine said quietly.

"Fine," I said. "We go."

Getting out of the manor should have been simple.

It was not simple.

By the time Amelia appeared in the entryway, the shopping trip had already expanded beyond recognition. She took one look at us pulling on our coats and said, "Oh, are we going into town?" with such practiced pleasantness that I suspected she'd been waiting for exactly this opening.

Fifteen minutes later: Ruby was coming. Olivia had asked if she could join. Amelia had "a few items to source personally" for the wedding preparations and had somehow restructured the entire outing into a coordinated expedition.

I stood by the front door and watched it happen with something between amusement and resignation.

"You're not even surprised," Scarlett murmured beside me.

"I stopped being surprised by Amelia about two weeks ago."

Scarlett snorted softly.

The cars were being arranged. Someone was calling ahead to clear a private shopping block. Amelia was on her phone, speaking quietly.

I checked my own phone. No new messages from Wilson or Hendrix.

Isabelle was still out there. Still moving. Still being watched.

And somewhere beyond the reach of my surveillance team, the Sovereign was waiting for her to deliver whatever she'd gone to collect.

She's still in the maze, I thought. She just doesn't know it yet.

I slipped my phone into my coat pocket and moved toward the waiting cars.

We need to look exceptional at this wedding. Seraphine said smugly.

We always look exceptional, I told her.

True, she agreed. But let's not leave it to chance.

I smiled back.

The surveillance would hold. Noah would arrive by afternoon. Isabelle would keep moving, and every step she took would draw the map a little clearer.

And in the meantime—

We had a wedding to dress for.