Celeste didn’t make her decision in anger. She didn’t act on impulse, either. Honestly, by the time she decided Nyra had to leave the palace, the choice felt inevitable. It was like some old truth had just been waiting for her to catch up, and once she did, the only question left was how cleanly she’d pull it off.
The palace itself stayed the same. The walls, the halls—none of that changed overnight. But something deeper did. Not the building, not the décor, but the story everyone told themselves. And once that story shifts, good luck fixing the damage.
High up in the eastern gallery, Celeste watched the swirl of courtiers below. They huddled in little knots, all polite laughter and whispers floating up in harmless-seeming waves. Look too quickly, and it just looked like chatter. She kne
