Except he never did

Rowland bowed before King Andrew and Harold.

"Father, my liege. I have done the espionage with perfection."

Harold stared at him in confusion.

"What are you trying to say, boy?"

Rowland straightened.

"I mean we need to check everyone at the ball."

Andrew frowned.

"Again?"

"Yes, my liege."

Rowland stepped closer to the table.

"But this time, we don't ask questions."

Andrew and Harold exchanged a glance.

"We search them."

"For what?" Harold asked.

"A wand."

Sybill stepped forward and placed the broken sphere on the table. Inside its cracked shell, the tiny trace of green material still remained.

Rowland pointed towards it.

"Revlio malachite. A banned substance. Someone fixed this beside Nigel's carriage wheel. We believe it was activated with magic from inside the ballroom."

Andrew stared at the green trace, and for a moment, something changed in his expression. His head lowered.

"The boy was obsessed with this stuff," he whispered. "Always wanted to experiment with it."

A faint, painful smile touched his face.

"But he could never get the chance."

Elena felt a pang in her stomach and looked away before her father could notice.

Soon, Dad. Soon.

Harold's expression grew serious as Rowland continued.

"Every guest was searched before entering the ball. Wands were forbidden. But someone managed to smuggle one inside."

"If we discover who brought it in, the motive may reveal itself."

Andrew rested both hands over the head of his cane.

Rowland glanced between the two men.

"So we search everything. Purses. Pockets. Robes. Coats. Anything large enough to conceal a wand."

Harold leaned back thoughtfully.

"And where does that leave our suspects?"

Rowland's expression grew serious.

"Dame Darlene and Duke Nigel remain at the centre of the mystery."

Andrew narrowed his vivid green eyes. One had lost a carriage. The other had very nearly lost his life. And somewhere between them was the reason why.

Harold tapped one finger against the table.

"The timing is wrong."

Rowland looked at him.

"Why set off the explosion in the middle of the ball? Why not wait until it was over? There would have been far more opportunity to escape afterwards."

Andrew considered the question.

"To avoid suspicion."

His expression hardened.

"And perhaps to avoid being caught in the fire themselves. Magical fire is notoriously difficult to contain once it spreads."

Harold slowly nodded.

"Then whoever activated it knew exactly what they were doing."

Andrew looked towards the ballroom doors.

"A seasoned mage."

Male and female attendants were immediately assigned to separate screening booths, and every guest was ordered to undergo a second, far more thorough search.

The process took hours. One by one, nobles emerged with exhausted faces, muttering complaints beneath their breath and throwing furious looks at the unfortunate servants who had searched them.

Purses and pouches were emptied, coat pockets turned inside out, and robes and sleeves carefully inspected. Even jewellery cases and anything else large enough to conceal a wand were opened and searched.

Coins, jewellery, hidden cutlery, half-eaten snacks, makeup, and perfume bottles were discovered along the way—along with several objects nobody particularly wanted explained.

But there was no wand.

Sammy, Sybill, Harold, Elena, and Andrew remained in the ballroom, quietly observing the suspects as the searches continued.

Dame Darlene, meanwhile, appeared to have grown completely bored with the proceedings. She lounged comfortably in a chair with both legs resting across the back of a cowering servant.

Sybill stared at her.

At least she is not hitting him with the fan.

Her eyes widened, and she immediately grabbed Elena by the shoulders and shook her.

"Ow! What, Sibi?"

"She is not the hitting the poor man with the fan."

Elena rubbed one shoulder.

"So?"

Sybill pointed towards Darlene.

"Elena. Where is the fan?"

Elena opened her mouth to answer, then stopped. Her eyes slowly travelled back towards Dame Darlene.

The fan was gone.

"Oh."

Harold had overheard them. He looked towards Darlene, then back at Sybill.

"A fan would make a remarkably convenient place to conceal a wand."

Andrew's gaze sharpened as Harold continued staring at Darlene. Slowly, an old memory seemed to return to him.

"She was one hell of a mage in her prime."

He frowned.

"But it was so long ago that even we had forgotten."

Dame Darlene stood in chains, her face twisted with anger and frustration. Her missing fan had been recovered along with the wand concealed beneath its folds.

A tiny scorch mark stained the silk where the wand's tip had been slipped between the folds to cast the spell.

"This is outrageous!"

Darlene jerked against the chains around her wrists, glaring furiously at Andrew.

"My carriage suffered more damage than any other. It was practically reduced to ash, and yet somehow I am the one standing here in chains?"

For several long seconds, Andrew said nothing. The room seemed to surrender to his silence. It was not merely the crown that commanded such attention; Andrew possessed an authority entirely his own, sharpened by vivid green eyes and a handsomeness that neither time nor illness had managed to diminish.

Even leaning upon a cane, he could put men half his age to shame—the kind of man who entered a room and made everyone else seem suddenly less worth looking at.

Then his expression changed.

"Because that was precisely the point."

Darlene fell silent as Andrew rested both hands upon the head of his cane.

"Your carriage suffered the greatest damage because you intended it to. Nigel's was parked directly beside yours, and once both were consumed by the fire, you expected everyone here to regard you as another victim."

Darlene's expression faltered.

"You said it yourself, Darlene. You practically watched half this court grow up. You know these people. You know their habits, and you know Nigel."

Andrew's vivid green eyes hardened.

"Winland is the farthest region from this summer residence. Nigel has left gatherings early countless times before because of the journey home. You were not hoping he would leave early. You were counting on it."

Darlene's face remained rigid.

"So when you saw him slip out of the ballroom, you assumed he was heading towards his carriage. You waited until you believed he would have reached it, and then you activated the spell."

Andrew's voice grew colder.

"Except he never did."

Darlene lifted her chin defiantly.

"Nigel was the strongest candidate for Elena's hand, and you wanted him removed so that your grandson could take his place. A marriage to the king's daughter brings wealth, influence, and access to the crown—everything your family has been steadily losing, and everything you hoped to reclaim through Elena."

Darlene's face twisted with fury.

"You would be wise to remember every word you have spoken tonight, Andrew, because before long you will be forced to swallow them."

She raised her chained wrists.

"You may have me standing here in chains now, but you will be the one who orders them removed. And when that day comes, I assure you, I shall remember precisely how certain you were of yourself tonight."

She strained against the restraints.

"Just you wait."

Leo approached from behind the king.

"We could simply remove her head."

Darlene whipped around towards him.

Andrew barely glanced back.

"That will not be necessary. Her threats are empty."

His attention returned to Darlene.

"And for the record, Darlene—I would never have permitted that spoiled, ignorant fool anywhere near my precious daughter, even if your diabolical little plan had succeeded."