Queen Seraphine did not return to her chambers.
She went lower.
Past the silk-draped halls and perfumed corridors, past the places meant to be seen, until marble gave way to stone and torches replaced chandeliers.
The palace had a spine.
And she ruled it.
The door closed behind her with a sharp crack.
Seraphine stood alone in the narrow council antechamber, hands braced against the table, breath measured but fast. The echoes of the throne hall still rang in her ears—
No.
The king's voice.
Public. Final.
Her fingers curled.
"How dare he," she whispered.
A knock came.
Once.
She straightened instantly. The softness returned to her posture—but not her eyes.
"Enter."
Lord Viremont stumbled inside, face pale, sweat clinging to his temples.
"They're turning," he said urgently. "Crestwick broke ranks—others will follow—"
Seraphine turned.
And struck him.
The sound echoed—skin on skin, sharp and final. Viremont staggered, clutching his cheek, eyes wide with shock.
"You were told," Seraphine said softly, "to keep them loyal."
"I did everything—"
"You failed," she interrupted calmly. "And now you're afraid."
She stepped closer, voice low and lethal.
"Fear makes people careless."
Viremont fell to his knees. "Your Majesty, please—"
"Enough," she said, bored now. "You will confess."
He froze.
"Confess?" he whispered.
"You will admit to bribery," Seraphine continued. "Forgery. Abuse of authority. You will become the rot we cut away."
"But—"
"You will save the crown," she said. "Or I will destroy you."
Tears slid down Viremont's face as understanding dawned.
"Yes," he croaked. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Seraphine turned away.
"Good," she said. "Guards."
They entered silently.
"Take him," she ordered. "Make sure he survives long enough to be convincing."
Viremont screamed as they dragged him away.
Seraphine did not flinch.
Above, in chambers still buzzing with shock, Aelira stood at the window, arms folded, watching the city breathe.
Kael joined her.
"She's cornered," he said quietly.
"Yes," Aelira replied. "Which makes her cruel."
"She'll strike where it hurts."
Aelira's gaze darkened. "She already has."
Kael turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
Aelira handed him a folded note.
No seal. No signature.
Just four words, written carefully.
Your mercy has limits.
Kael's jaw tightened. "She's threatening you."
"No," Aelira said softly. "She's reminding me."
She stepped closer to the glass.
"In my first life," she continued, voice steady but distant, "this was when she broke me. Not publicly."
Kael's hand closed around hers.
"Not this time," he said.
Aelira didn't look at him.
"This time," she whispered, "she'll learn what happens when you threaten someone who has already died once."
In the depths of the palace, Queen Seraphine stood before a mirror.
Her reflection stared back—perfect. Untouched.
She lifted her hand and pressed it against the glass.
"Enough games," she murmured.
Behind her, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows.
"Prepare the inner decree," the queen said calmly. "If the court wants truth—"
Her smile returned.
"—we'll give them blood."
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