Violet and Astrid followed the crowd into the first room, which now looked nothing like it had before. The floor had risen by nearly a meter, sloping gently toward the center, while seating curved outward from the focal point toward the doorway they had entered through—much like a lecture hall or a combat theater. Every seat faced inward, directing attention toward the space where the artifacts would be presented.

  Neither Violet nor Astrid—and many of those in their trade—were surprised. They had already noticed the runes etched into the floor earlier. The aristocrats, too, seemed unfazed; many of them employed similar arrangements in their private studios when hosting exhibitions or discreet auctions of their own.

  Soon, everyone was seated, waiting as artifacts were brought in one by one.

  Within two hours, half the event had passed, and a break was announced. Attendees were permitted to collect refreshments, finalize payments, and receive the items they had won. The cousins had bid on several pieces, though they had secured only three—unfortunately fewer than they had hoped.

  Those who recognized them knew better than to ignore their interest. Anything Violet and Astrid bid on was assumed to be valuable, which quickly drove prices beyond what the girls were permitted to spend. It wasn’t a lack of money—on the contrary, they were wealthier than most in the room, perhaps even most in the kingdom. Runesmiths were never poor, and they least of all.

  No, the limitation came from their aunt.

  She had strictly forbidden them from spending beyond a certain threshold when she wasn’t present, lest they draw trouble they couldn’t easily handle alone. How awful, Astrid thought, if she only knew what we lost. Still, she doubted her aunt would care much. The woman had always seemed oddly disinterested in the kingdom’s treasures.

  As the second half of the auction neared, Violet excused herself.

  On her way back, she noticed two men walking hurriedly toward a side door—one she hadn’t seen used before. As they passed, she caught fragments of whispered conversation. Where is it? one of them hissed.

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  Curiosity won.

  Violet brushed her hair aside, revealing a small triangular device attached discreetly to her earring. She channeled a thread of aether into it. A brief, near skull-splitting burst of static followed before the sound sharpened into clarity.

  The noise of the auction hall flooded in—clinking glassware, murmured laughter, and the occasional crude remark. A few comments even involved her and Astrid. Had she been holding anything fragile, it would have shattered. Violet shut those out the moment she caught the voices she was after.

  “That should not be there,” said an unfamiliar voice, barely restraining its anger.

  Then Kyle’s voice followed, tense and hurried, almost stuttering. “It must have been a transfer accident, sir. The item was moved discreetly and wasn’t immediately taken upstairs—”

  “Well then get it out of there!” the older man snapped. “Hand it to Samuel and have it returned.”

  “To Molwen? But it just came—”

  “Shut up and get to it.”

  Footsteps stormed away. Kyle let out a rough sigh and rushed toward the holding rooms.

  Violet deactivated the enhancer and glanced in the direction Kyle had gone, curiosity simmering beneath the surface. She considered following—but the echoes of the auction hall snapped her back to the present. She hurried to Astrid’s side to ensure she was unharmed.

  The auction resumed shortly after.

  By the end of the event, the cousins managed to win four more items, though many slipped through their fingers. Once it concluded, they were dismissed, and Violet and Astrid boarded a coach to return home.

  Only then did Violet realize that no official announcement had been made regarding any missing artifact. It wasn’t until she overheard a pair of gossiping women mention nobles purchasing items directly from the back rooms—ensuring no competition—that the truth clicked into place.

  Whatever had caused that panic earlier, it would never appear in the open auction.

  Violet let the matter slip from her thoughts. There was no way to know what the item had been now.

  She leaned back as the coach rolled onward, Astrid beside her, both already thinking of the haul awaiting them at home.