Chapter 9, the council has a plan, and the first part is Tinbunny selling it to the Principe. After all, it's been a very long day for Tinbunny.

She had to sound frustrated, a little humiliated, but ultimately successful. She activated the disc. A faint, shimmering light pulsed from its surface, and she heard the familiar, cultured voice of Principe Rocco Visconti, as clear as if he were standing beside her.

"Tinbunny. You are late." His voice was a silken whip, laced with impatience.

"My apologies, Principe," she began, her voice a carefully crafted mixture of exhaustion and irritation. "My infiltration was successful. I'm in. But this place... it's not what we thought."

"Explain," he commanded.

"They're not just performers," she said, letting a note of genuine awe creep into her voice. "They're powerful. And they're arrogant beyond belief. They knew I was good, but they wanted to... test me. To put me in my place."

She paused, letting the silence stretch, building the drama. "They have a new performance they're preparing. They needed a new... assistant. A prop."

"And?" Visconti's voice was sharp, demanding.

"And I was it," Tinbunny said, injecting a healthy dose of humiliation into her tone. "Their 'Trickster,' Maximillian Holt... he turned me into a doll, Principe. A life-sized, plastic doll. He paraded me around, restrained me, all as a 'rehearsal' for some grand new illusion. It was a message. A display of their power and their contempt."

There was a long, dangerous silence on the other end of the line. Tinbunny held her breath. She could almost feel the cold fury building in Visconti, a continent away. He wasn't angry at her. He was furious at the disrespect. That his agent, his perfect, priceless tool, had been treated with such theatrical, gaudy contempt by his rivals. It was the ultimate insult to his taste, his power, his very being.

"They are children," Visconti hissed finally, his voice a low, venomous snarl. "Smug, arrogant children, playing with forces they do not respect. They will pay for this humiliation."

"I've gained their trust," Tinbunny pressed on, seizing the advantage. "They think I'm just a capable mortal, a plaything for their games. Victor Blackwood has given me access to his workshop. I've seen the Door, Principe. It's here."

"Then take it," he commanded. "Take it and get out."

"It's not that simple," she countered. "It's protected by wards, ancient and powerful. It will take time to analyze them, to find a weakness. But I can do it. I just need a little more time."

Another long pause. "Very well," Visconti said finally, his voice cold and decisive. "Play their games. Let them think you are their toy. Find the weakness in their wards. And when you have the Door, you will not just steal it. You will burn their little playhouse to the ground."

Tinbunny is @HenchwomanTinbunny