The dawn of the Trade Council did not arrive with the gentle warmth of a Southern spring; it arrived with a sharp, biting clarity that suited my mood perfectly. The memory of Kaelion and Maribel, the intimacy of their shadows entwined in the garden, had crystallized overnight into a cold, impenetrable diamond of resolve.
I was no longer just a woman seeking a throne. I was a tempest wrapped in silk.
"Leave us, Kaelion," I said, my voice cutting through the morning stillness of our chambers. I didn't look at him. I was standing by the vanity, my fingers tracing the cold silver of my jewelry box.
Kaelion, who had been sharpening a dagger by the window, paused. He looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable.
"The Council begins soon, Seraphina. We should move as one."
"We will move as one whe
