Zafira felt the change before she heard it.
It was not carried by whispers—those came later. It came in the way the palace breathed around her, the subtle reordering of movement that only those who had ruled a space long enough could sense. Attendants paused before answering her. Schedules arrived with margins altered, annotations polite but firm. Invitations that once bore her seal now carried neutral endorsements instead.
Nothing overt.
But everything was deliberate.
She crossed the inner gallery with her head high, silk trailing behind her like a banner that no longer commanded the same air. Faces dipped respectfully as she passed, but eyes did not linger the way they once had. Deference had thinned into observation.
They were watching her.
They were measuring.
