When we returned to the Hearth that afternoon, something felt off. The hallways were unnaturally hushed, as if the walls themselves had paused in anticipation of what we’d brought back. I kept my gloves on as I stepped into my study, laying down the Royal Historian’s scroll like a surface of promise. Marcelline followed quietly, eyes sharp and calculating—clearly she recognized change when it arrived.
Harroway stayed just inside the doorway. “You’ll need allies fast,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. “Marcelline, send for Cecilia. Invite Lord Ferin and Lady Wren too. Tell them there’s a development that could redefine royal obedience.”
She hesitated a heartbeat. “You’re gathering foxes.”
“I’m building a den,” I answered with a faint smile.
By dusk, the blue salon was warm with lamp light
