They did not summon her.
They invited her.
The distinction mattered.
The message arrived just after dawn, carried by a council aide whose posture suggested careful neutrality.
“The council requests your presence,” he said. “As a guest.”
Seraphina lifted her gaze from the stone floor where she sat, eyes calm.
“A guest,” she repeated.
“Yes,” the aide said quickly. “Under revised terms.”
She rose slowly. “Lead the way.”
The route they took did not descend this time.
It ascended.
Past the threshold chamber. Past the heavy wards. Back toward the visible heart of power.
The council chamber had been altered.
The crescent table remained, but the seat at its center—the one reserved for the crown—was empty.
They wanted her attention on the space.
Not the person.
Seraphina stood witho
