The evening at the recovery center had all the trappings of courtly civility.
There were lanterns riding along hedges in the form of stags and wolves. Wine went round and round, in crystal flashing the last of the sun.
Good-natured nobles crowded around in little groups, and talked in low voices, heads close together, discussing the injuries Sophia had received.
She had made a public appearance for the first time since the accident—a calculated move advised by Felix to remind the realm that she hadn’t been broken. She had walked slowly into the rose courtyard flanked by attendants, her cane as polished as her posture.
They applauded her strength. They murmured about her resolve.
But beneath their smiles… she felt it.
The shift.
The weight of eyes that lingered too long. The sideway
