I could feel the silence before I heard it.
The kind of stillness that settled just before a storm, where every breath of wind held a secret and every shadow bent to listen. Ashcombe banners flanked the outer gates of the palace, but inside, the Queen’s standard flew alone.
The fox.
I dismounted, handing the reins off to a groom who didn’t meet my eye. Harroway fell into step beside me, his presence a silent anchor. His hand brushed mine once, briefly—bare reassurance, nothing more. But it reminded me who I was walking in as.
Not a daughter.
Not a duchess.
Something else entirely.
The doors opened before we knocked. They knew we were coming. Court was in session, though the Queen had not summoned us formally. This was invitation by implication—the most dangerous kind.
We were led t
