"Where is the pendant?" Sebastian's voice cut across the Great Hall like a blade. Voices stilled. The choir's last note thinned and died. Candles guttered as if the air itself had been slashed. The ritual cloth fell from the altar where the priest had been about to place it—white linen flapping like a flag. Eyes pivoted. Hands found edges of benches. A noble laughed, too loud, then swallowed it. Clementine stood beneath the painted arch, the filigreed crown glinting at her temple. Her fingers clutched the silk of her sleeve. She felt every gaze like a tally. The crowd wanted a fissure. They found one. Sebastian stepped forward. He was taller now than in the portraits, shoulders boxed, jaw hard. "The pendant," he repeated. "Bring it." A guard bowed and began moving through the throng with practiced efficiency. Men in the prince's livery swept Aisle A and Aisle B. Servants ran to curtains, under chairs, into pews. A woman fainted near the eastern window; two attendants hauled her to the side. "What's this?" Calder Galli's voice slid out smooth as oil from the councillor's chair at the dais. He clasped his hands, a smile scraped across his mouth that claimed innocence. "An unfortunate misplacement. The ceremony must go on." "No." Sebastian's look snapped like a whip. "Stop. We do this right. Search them. All of them." The court murmured, an animal aware of blood. Noblemen straightened, noblewomen clutched fans that did nothing