The morning bells rang twice.
That alone was unusual.
Aelira stood before her mirror, fastening the clasp of her cloak, eyes steady. The ring hummed faintly against her finger—present, contained.
"Are you certain?" Mara asked quietly, hands twisting in her apron.
"Yes," Aelira replied. "That's why it will work."
Mara swallowed. "They'll notice."
Aelira smiled. "Good."
The outer kitchens were already awake—steam rising from great cauldrons, servants moving quickly, heads bowed. Conversation faltered when Aelira entered.
A princess did not come here.
Certainly not alone.
"Your Highness—!" a steward stammered, dropping into a bow.
"Please," Aelira said gently. "Continue."
She moved through the space, greeting servants by name—asking after families, thanking them for their work. She stopped where Mara stood, flour dusting her sleeves.
"I was told you'd been reassigned," Aelira said calmly. "Without my consent."
Mara froze.
"I've corrected that," Aelira continued, raising her voice just enough to carry. "Effective immediately, Mara returns to my service."
The kitchen went silent.
Aelira turned to the gathered servants. "No one here is invisible," she said. "And no one will be punished for loyalty."
Whispers rippled outward.
Upward.
By midday, the court was buzzing.
A princess in the kitchens. A public reassignment reversed. Servants speaking of gratitude instead of fear.
Queen Seraphine heard every word.
She sat in the council chamber, fingers steepled, gaze unreadable.
"So," she said softly, "she's learned how to strike without raising a hand."
The king shifted. "It was… well received."
Seraphine smiled thinly. "That's the problem."
Kael found Aelira in the east garden, sunlight dappling her hair through the leaves.
"You've complicated things," he said.
"I've clarified them," she replied.
He studied her. "The queen can't punish you for kindness. Not without backlash."
"Exactly."
A pause.
"And Mara?" he asked.
"Is back," Aelira said simply.
Kael nodded once. "Well played."
She glanced at him. "You approved."
"I respected," he corrected. "There's a difference."
Her lips curved faintly. "You're learning."
His gaze lingered—warm, proud, dangerous. "So are you."
That evening, Queen Seraphine tore the lilies from their vase.
Petals scattered across the floor like fallen snow.
"She's turning the court," the queen said quietly. "Not with power."
Her eyes hardened.
"With people."
She reached for fresh parchment.
"Accelerate the schedule," she ordered. "If kindness fails…"
Her smile returned.
"…we test her in public."