(Violet POV)
They waited until midnight.
That was the genius of it. Not during the dance, not during the toast. But in the pause. The breath between spectacle and aftermath. When even I had begun to believe the worst might be over.
The steward wasn’t the same one who had delivered Lucian’s speech. This one had a different face—older, more assured. A man used to delivering ruin and calling it procedure.
He unrolled a scroll before the court. The words came cold and practiced.
“Per royal record,” he read, “an archived blood decree has been uncovered.”
A flicker of confusion moved through the room. Not panic. Not yet.
I stood still beside Lucian, pulse loud in my ears.
“The lady Violet Reed,” the steward continued, “is no orphan, but a child once listed under a protective clause. Her
