Reconciliation was a performance.
Aelira understood that the moment she entered the Sun Court.
The banners were softer here. The music gentler. Even the light seemed curated—filtered through pale silk curtains to cast the room in warmth instead of power.
Queen Seraphine waited at the center, dressed in ivory and gold, her smile maternal, forgiving.
"Come," the queen said, opening her arms slightly. "Let us put this unpleasantness behind us."
Unpleasantness.
Aelira lowered her head just enough to appear grateful.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Around them, nobles watched closely—some curious, some hopeful, some calculating. Guards stood at measured distances. Mages lingered near the pillars, pretending to be decorations.
Everyone was looking at Aelira.
Exactly as planned.
Tea was poured. Apologies were offered. Words like misunderstanding and concern floated gently through the air.
"You've shown great restraint," Seraphine said kindly. "It speaks well of your character."
"Restraint," Aelira echoed softly. "Is often mistaken for weakness."
The queen's smile flickered—just a fraction.
"But today," Seraphine continued smoothly, "we start anew. Transparency. Trust."
Aelira lifted her cup.
"Then I should be transparent," she said calmly.
The court stilled.
Queen Seraphine tilted her head. "By all means."
Aelira set the cup down untouched.
"Three days ago," she said, voice carrying without effort, "a royal order was issued rerouting inner-palace wards without council approval."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"That order," Aelira continued, "left the eastern servants' wing exposed for exactly forty-seven minutes."
The queen's gaze sharpened.
"A coincidence," Seraphine said lightly.
"So I thought," Aelira replied. "Until I asked the Council of Wards."
She turned slightly.
From the edge of the court, an elderly mage stepped forward—robes heavy with authority, eyes steady.
"The princess is correct," he said. "The rerouting violated protocol."
Whispers sharpened.
Queen Seraphine did not move.
Aelira went on.
"During that window, two things occurred," she said. "A servant was reassigned without due cause. And an inspection record was altered."
She met the queen's eyes.
"Both acts bypassed the council."
Silence pressed down hard.
"You accuse me?" Seraphine asked softly.
"No," Aelira replied. "I corrected you."
She gestured.
Another figure stepped forward—Mara.
Clean. Composed. Unafraid.
"I was reassigned without cause," Mara said clearly. "And questioned under pressure."
Gasps echoed.
Servants were not meant to speak here.
The queen's smile did not waver—but her eyes darkened.
Aelira finished quietly.
"I did not resist," she said. "I observed. I documented. And I waited."
She inclined her head.
"This reconciliation," Aelira concluded, "is unnecessary."
The court erupted.
Not shouting—confusion. Shock. Reassessment.
Queen Seraphine rose slowly.
"You've planned this," she said.
"Yes," Aelira agreed.
"And you think this protects you?"
"No," Aelira said softly. "I think it exposes you."
For a long moment, the queen said nothing.
Then she laughed—slow, controlled, dangerous.
"Very clever," Seraphine said. "But cleverness does not win wars."
Aelira smiled.
"Neither does force," she replied. "Not anymore."
She turned and walked away.
Behind her, the court buzzed—not with fear, but with questions.
And that—
That was the counterstrike.
From the shadows of the upper gallery, Kael watched everything.
He did not move.
He did not need to.
The queen had lost something far more valuable than control.
She had lost certainty.
And once doubt entered a court—
It never left quietly.