The invitation wasn't real. But the seal was.
Serina had copied it from an old court missive. I wrote the names.
We would attend not as ourselves, but as nobility from the Eastern Highlands. Obscure. Wealthy. Unthreatening.
"You'll wear silver," Serina said. "Something forgettable."
"Blending in is what I do best."
The Avelar estate was built to intimidate. All black marble and white banners. The kind of place where every corner echoed with practiced laughter and political knives.
Inside, the guest list was worse than expected. Not just nobles. Advisors. Guard captains. Even a bishop.
And Reina.
She was laughing beside a glass tower of champagne. Gold-draped. Unbothered. Untouchable.
"She hasn't changed," Serina murmured.
"She's only grown smarter about hiding."
We didn't approach her.
Not yet.
We waited.
And we watched.