Zara’s POV
Apparently saving a fortress did not excuse one from gossip.
By sunrise, every hallway, stairwell, tower landing, and kitchen corner buzzed with exactly three topics:
1. The Warden ate cursed metal.
2. The Eighth House had returned.
3. I stood between Greyson’s knees while he held my hips in full view of half the courtyard.
Priorities were broken here.
I strode through the eastern corridor with purpose, dignity, and a strong desire to set something on fire.
Servants bowed too quickly.
Warriors looked away too slowly.
Two maids near the linen room stopped whispering when they saw me.
Then one curtsied so hard she nearly headbutted the floor.
I sighed.
“I am not going to punish people for speaking.”
They both looked unconvinced.
Fair.
As I passed, I heard one hiss
