The next morning brought with it a sky the color of unfinished threats—pale, streaked with grey, and too still. I woke before sunrise, already halfway into my dress when Mina arrived with fresh news.
"The courier you dispatched last night returned," she said, holding two sealed messages.
One bore the royal seal. The other was marked by the now-familiar emblem of two interlocking keys.
Harroway.
I broke the king’s seal first.
Your memorandum has been received and circulated. You are invited to sit for tomorrow’s discussion on domestic policy.
I smiled thinly. Another seat at another table. They wanted to watch me more closely.
Harroway’s message was shorter:
You drew blood. Now watch who smells it.
***
By mid-morning, three nobles had sent offers of mediation, gifts of rare ink, a
