She dropped the cloth into a hollowed stone in the courtyard fountain. By dawn, it would be gone, carried by the network she still didn’t know the full shape of.
The first week was agony in disguise. Her hands, trained for lockpicks and garrotes, blistered from scrubbing hearths. Her back ached from carrying coal buckets. But pain was an old friend. Each evening, as the other maids collapsed into their narrow cots, Mira would lie awake and build her map. spy mission a noble's maid guide
Behind that wall, she guessed, was a safe. And behind that safe, the cipher. She dropped the cloth into a hollowed stone
But the real prize came on the twelfth day. Her hands, trained for lockpicks and garrotes, blistered
Mira smiled, a small, dangerous thing, into her washbasin.
Mira was turning down the guest bedroom’s sheets when Lady Ashworth arrived unannounced. A furious, beautiful woman with diamonds at her throat and a letter clutched in her gloved hand. Mira froze behind the dressing screen, heart hammering.