She set down the wine pitcher and curtsied, a perfect, forgettable maid.
The winter fair was two weeks away. Two weeks to become invisible. Two weeks to unspool Lord Harrow’s secrets from the inside out. spy mission a noble's maid guide
Her new name was Mira. Her new face, courtesy of a clever tint and a different way of holding her jaw, was forgettable. Her new master was Lord Harrow, a man whose public decadence hid a ledger of treason against the Crown. And her key to him was the woman who ironed his shirts. She set down the wine pitcher and curtsied,
The door slammed. Mira held her breath for a full minute after the footsteps faded. Then she slipped out, re-tucked the already-tucked sheets, and carried her basket of linens down to the laundry. There, she palmed a stub of charcoal and wrote on a scrap of cloth: Two weeks to unspool Lord Harrow’s secrets from
Mira bowed her head, the picture of meek obedience. “Yes, Mistress Cora.”
Mira smiled, a small, dangerous thing, into her washbasin.
