Mary Ann’s POV
I stared at Greta for several seconds after she told us the original wedding ring was gone.
Nothing else.
No council papers.
No Nightveil records.
No jewellery.
No letters.
Just the ring I had stopped wearing.
That made it worse.
If someone had entered the Luna Wing to steal valuables, I could understand greed.
If they had taken political documents, I would understand espionage.
But the ring?
That meant intention.
Someone had known exactly where it was kept.
Exactly which box.
Exactly which object mattered.
My fingers instinctively touched the new ring on my hand.
The silver band Modric had given me in the garden.
The one I had chosen for myself.
The old ring had remained locked away because I had not known what else to do with it. Throwing it away felt li
