By noon, the palace felt like a pressure cooker.
Wolves moved a little faster in the corridors. Conversations snapped off when I turned a corner. Somewhere, behind too many doors, the Council was “in session.”
Aria had warned me:
They will scream about jurisdiction.
They will pretend they never read the same prophecies you just saw.
They will try to separate you.
We were not giving them that chance.
Grace escorted me to the antechamber outside the Council hall and then planted herself by the door, radiating “try me” in all directions.
“You sure about this?” she murmured.
“No,” I said. “But I’m done letting them talk about me like I’m a footnote.”
She snorted. “Good. Remember: if they raise their voices, you lower yours. Scares them more.”
The inner doors swung open.
“His Majest
