The intruder was moving slowly, cautiously.

A thin beam of light sliced through the darkness, sweeping across the rows of metal cabinets.

The light bounced off the dusty shelves, illuminating swirling particles of dust.

I drew a slow, silent breath through my nose.

My heart beat in a steady, practiced rhythm.

The flashlight beam settled on the wooden table where the leather ledger lay open.

A soft grunt came from the dark.

The figure moved closer to the table, their silhouette blocking the beam of light.

“Looking for this?” I asked.

My voice was calm, projecting the authority I had used for years on navy decks.

The figure flinched, the flashlight beam jerking toward my face.

I squinted against the sudden glare, raising my left arm to shield my eyes.

With my right hand, I clicked my own flashlight on, aiming it directly back at them.

The harsh white light caught the intruder’s face.

It was Julian, the senior palace archivist who had guided me to this section of the basement earlier.

He wore his formal black vest, but his collar was unbuttoned, and his hair was disheveled.