(Romulus POV)
The letter arrived at the hour when the palace was neither fully awake nor fully at rest.
A senior clerk delivered it personally—no flourish, no urgency, no trembling hands. The seal was neutral wax, uncolored, unmarred. Proper. Respectful. Dangerous.
I dismissed the clerk with a nod and broke the seal myself.
The parchment unfolded with practiced ease, the words arranged with surgical care. No accusation. No command. No name singled out. The council had learned long ago that bluntness invited resistance.
This was a reminder.
A reminder of rotation.
A reminder of balance.
A reminder of tradition as a stabilizing force.
I read it once. Then again.
My jaw tightened.
This was the first time the council had imposed on the harem's schedule since—
since before Almera.
