Maryelle’s POV
The council chamber emptied slowly, the echo of footsteps fading into the marble corridors. I lingered, my pulse still sharp from the queen mother’s words. Return home to Falls Quaker. The suggestion had been wrapped in maternal concern, but I knew whose hand had guided it. Bailey’s. Her smile had been too polished, her timing too precise.
Phantom’s rebuttal still rang in my ears. His voice had cut through the chamber like steel: She belongs here, with me. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t pleaded. He had spoken with the kind of calm authority that silenced the room. Even his mother had faltered. Bailey’s mask had remained flawless, her humility rehearsed, her compromise—perhaps a letter to ease their minds—delivered with silk that hid the daggers aimed at me.
I felt t
