Modric’s POV
The green cloak hung behind Velvera’s bedroom door.
For several seconds, I could not move.
The cottage faded around me as Elder Mira’s description returned with painful clarity.
A woman near the dessert table.
Dark green fabric.
A hood lowered over part of her face.
The poisoned honey cakes had been placed shortly afterward.
At the time, the description had been too vague to identify anyone. Many women owned green cloaks. Many guests had moved through the festival grounds.
But now the same color appeared everywhere.
The cloak.
The wax sealing Velvera’s letter to Mary Ann.
The dark green leaves in the bouquet left near the Luna Wing.
None of those details proved anything alone.
Together, they formed a pattern I could no longer ignore.
Velvera stood between me and
