The queen sent flowers.
Not rare ones. Not dramatic. Just pale lilies arranged with careful restraint, delivered to Aelira's chambers with a handwritten note.
I worry we've been too hard on you. Come take tea with me.
No seal. No witnesses.
Kindness, offered privately, was always more dangerous than cruelty.
Aelira read the note twice.
Then she folded it neatly and smiled.
The queen's sitting room was warm—too warm. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. A small table had been laid with porcelain cups and honeyed pastries.
Queen Seraphine rose as Aelira entered, her expression gentle, almost maternal.
"Thank you for coming," she said softly. "I thought it time we spoke… honestly."
Aelira inclined her head. "I'm honored."
They sat.
Tea was poured.
For several minutes, the queen spoke of nothing of consequence—weather, court preparations, the strain of leadership. Ordinary things. Human things.
Then—
"I heard about the inspectors," Seraphine said lightly. "That must have been frightening."
Aelira kept her expression neutral. "It was unexpected."
"Yes," the queen sighed. "They can be so… invasive. I remember how overwhelming court felt when I was young."
Young.
Aelira's fingers tightened around her teacup.
"I wanted to reassure you," Seraphine continued. "You are not alone here."
The lie was wrapped in warmth.
Aelira took a careful sip. "That's kind of you."
Seraphine smiled. "I try to be. Especially with girls who have no one to protect them."
There it was.
"I do have people," Aelira said calmly.
"Do you?" the queen asked gently. "Servants are questioned. Guards are reassigned. And commanders…" She tilted her head. "They obey the crown."
Aelira met her gaze. "Commander Draven has been… professional."
Seraphine's smile softened. "Professional men are the easiest to lose."
The words settled like frost.
"I would hate," the queen continued, "for you to place your trust in someone who cannot choose you when it matters."
Aelira felt it then—the pressure, subtle and precise, pressing not on her magic but on her resolve.
"You're very young," Seraphine said. "And very alone."
Aelira set her cup down.
"I am neither," she replied quietly.
Seraphine watched her for a long moment.
Then she changed tactics.
"I've reassigned Mara," the queen said casually.
The room stilled.
"Reassigned?" Aelira repeated.
"Yes. To the outer kitchens. Safer. Less… scrutiny."
Aelira's chest tightened.
"You see," Seraphine added gently, "those close to you draw attention. I thought you'd prefer to spare them."
The trap snapped shut.
Aelira stood.
Slowly. Carefully.
"I appreciate your concern," she said, voice even. "But I won't be needing your protection."
Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "Think carefully."
"I have," Aelira replied. "And I choose my own kindness."
She bowed once and turned to leave.
Behind her, the queen's voice followed—soft, warning, almost regretful.
"Kindness," Seraphine said, "is always paid for by someone."
Kael was waiting outside.
He read her expression instantly.
"She went for your heart," he said.
"Yes."
"She threatened your people."
"Yes."
He exhaled slowly. "Then we escalate."
Aelira met his gaze, something cold and clear settling into place.
"No," she said. "We expose."
Kael's brow furrowed.
"She wants me isolated," Aelira continued. "Dependent. Doubting."
She lifted her chin. "So I'll do the opposite."
Kael studied her—really studied her.
Then he nodded. "Tell me how."
Aelira's smile was small. Dangerous.
"First," she said, "we bring Mara back into the light."
"And then?"
"Then," Aelira replied softly, "we show the court what kindness looks like when it isn't a weapon."
Above them, unseen, Queen Seraphine watched the corridor empty.
Her smile had vanished.
Because the girl had not broken.
And that made her far more dangerous.