“You're isolating her."
Noah didn't look up from his map table. “She prefers it."
Rowan crossed his arms. “The court is whispering. Lords are saying you're ashamed of your fiancée."
“I am."
A pause. Then Rowan asked quietly, “Still think she's not Aelya?"
“I know she's not."
Noah's voice was low. Dangerous.
“She writes like a scholar, gives candy to guards, tends to injured pups, and smells like a memory that shouldn't exist." He looked up. “She's not who they say she is. And if she is—she's changed so completely I can't recognize her."
Rowan hesitated. “You could ask her directly."
Noah shook his head. “She'd just give me riddles."
---
That evening, a formal supper was arranged.
“I want the alliance lords silenced," Noah told Mira. “They say I've lost interest. Let them choke
