The warning did not come for Seraphina first.
It came for someone she cared about.
Maris Ellowen had learned to walk carefully through the palace. Not quietly—quiet drew attention—but normally. Normal footsteps. Normal posture. Normal smiles.
Normal people survived longer.
She carried a stack of archival ledgers tucked against her chest as she crossed the western gallery, the scent of old parchment grounding her nerves. The reassignment to the northern watch had been rescinded weeks ago, quietly, without explanation.
She knew better than to ask why.
Favors were dangerous things.
Especially when they came from Seraphina Nightborne.
Maris turned a corner—and stopped.
A man stood near the tall arched window at the end of the hall. Not a guard. Not a court official. His clothing was u
