Lady Seraphina’s POV
The council would meet again in four days.
Four.
Long enough for the palace to breathe itself into yet another illusion of stability.
Long enough for whispers to start circling again.
Long enough for someone to grow suspicious, but not bold.
I’d made sure of that.
I stood before the tall mirror in my private quarters, not to admire, but to assess.
The burgundy robe draped across my frame had once belonged to a queen from the old bloodline—a family long erased, but whose ornaments remained in the palace vaults for those of us who still knew how to reach for power with grace.
I fastened a brooch to my shoulder. A golden lily.
Irony never fails to amuse me. The lilies had always bloomed on the graves of failed women.
They say Omegas smell like honeyed heat wh
