Queen Seraphine broke the glass.
It shattered against the far wall, crystal splinters scattering across the solar floor like frozen rain. The servants froze where they stood, eyes lowered, breaths held.
"Leave," the queen said softly.
They fled.
Silence rushed in to fill the space.
Seraphine turned toward the window, fingers curling around the sill. Below, the gardens glowed with lantern light, still humming with echoes of laughter from the gathering.
Laughter.
From her court.
From that girl.
"She humiliated my event," the queen said calmly.
The king shifted in his seat. "Public opinion was favorable. The nobles—"
"The nobles laughed," Seraphine cut in. "And laughter loosens loyalty."
She turned, eyes sharp. "Cassian misstepped."
The king frowned. "He followed your instruction."
"He followed poorly," Seraphine replied. "And Commander Draven interfered."
A pause.
"That concerns me," the king said.
Seraphine smiled then—thin, precise. "It should."
Aelira returned to her chambers with Kael at her side.
The corridor was quiet. Too quiet.
"You're walking differently," Kael said after a moment.
She glanced at him. "Is that an accusation?"
"An observation," he replied. "You're relaxed."
Aelira considered that. "I laughed tonight."
Kael's brow furrowed. "That's dangerous."
"I know," she said lightly. "But effective."
They stopped before her door. Kael reached past her to check the corridor—habit, instinct, control.
"You enjoyed the chaos," he said.
She smiled. "I enjoyed that it wasn't fear."
His gaze lingered. "Careful."
She stepped closer, voice low. "You laughed too."
He stilled.
"That was… unexpected," he admitted.
She grinned. "I'll treasure the memory."
He shook his head. "You shouldn't tease me."
"Why?" she asked. "Are you fragile?"
His eyes darkened. "No."
"Then," she said gently, "you'll survive."
They moved to the small sitting room inside her chambers. Kael closed the door, then paused.
"Seraphine won't let this go," he said. "She'll change tactics."
"Good," Aelira replied. "So will we."
She reached for the ring on her finger, thumb brushing the etched runes. "What's the price?"
Kael studied her. "Public distance. Private discipline."
She arched a brow. "You make it sound unpleasant."
"It is," he said. "And necessary."
Aelira nodded once. "Then train me."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
Kael hesitated. Then—"Five minutes."
She smiled. "You're generous."
In the abandoned study, the lantern burned low.
"Again," Kael said.
Aelira centered herself, breathing steady. The warmth rose—measured this time. The shadows obeyed, coiling neatly at her feet.
Kael circled her, watchful. "Better."
She flicked a shadow toward the far wall. It stopped exactly where she intended.
"Better," he repeated.
She glanced at him. "You sound impressed."
"I'm relieved," he corrected.
A pause.
Then, quieter: "Don't do that again."
"Do what?"
"Make the court forget how dangerous you are."
She smiled faintly. "That's the plan."
Kael met her gaze. "It's working."
Outside, the palace settled into uneasy sleep.
In the queen's solar, Seraphine unfolded a new parchment, lips curving.
And somewhere between strategy and laughter, Aelira felt the shift—subtle, irrevocable.
The smiles had worked.
Now came the cut.