Some things don't knock before re-entering your life. Especially if they want answers.
The Crown Chamber was still cracked from the Tribunal.
So was she.
Duchess Talraine stood in the archway like a secret trying to pretend it hadn't seen the war. Her gloves were gone. Her cloak was dusted with divine static. And the way she looked at me?
Like I owed her an explanation and a kingdom.
"You broke the gods," she said, voice low. "And you didn't invite me?"
I blinked. "You weren't answering your glyphmail."
Her lip twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite not.
The Queen stepped aside without speaking.
The Matron faded to the shadows.
Seraphine didn't even look up from her sharpening.
But I saw her eyes twitch.
The blade scraped slower—like she was listening. Judging.
Even she knew: this wasn't just a noble scorned.
This was a threat re-entering orbit.
Talraine walked like she still remembered being royalty—
and maybe like she missed it.
