The palace did not explode the next day.
It sulked.
Elders stalked the upper halls in small knots, robes whispering, scents vinegar-sharp. Staff moved around them with the wary grace of people carrying hot soup past a sleeping dragon.
“They’re not used to ‘no’,” El said, watching a pair of Council aides stalk past the courtyard window below. “It’s giving them hives.”
“Good,” Mara said, threading a needle with more force than necessary. “Maybe they’ll scratch themselves into a revelation.”
My son sat at the table between them, coloring a series of increasingly elaborate crowns on increasingly fat frogs. Wolfie presided from a stack of books.
Nolan had insisted on a “light duty” day—no node dives, no speeches, no direct exposure to Council toxins. My body appreciated it. My brain did n
