Eight months feeding intel to a handler she'd never met. The day he introduced himself, the first thing he said was the mistake that could get her killed.
England, 1559. Lady Margot Ashford has been quietly passing coded intelligence to Francis Wren for eight months — not because she was asked to, but because she documents what others overlook, and power in Elizabeth's court is a game where the wrong observation can get you killed. Francis introduces himself on a Tuesday with a warning about the exposure she's been running and the specific blind spot in her analysis she hasn't caught yet. He knows her methodology. He knows her sources. He knows the mistake. What neither of them prepared for is the particular danger of working this closely with someone who sees exactly how your mind moves — and decides that's the most compelling thing about you. The court doesn't tolerate distractions. They've become each other's.
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