By sunrise, three names had vanished from the court ledger.
Not dead. Not exiled.
Just gone.
"The Queen moves fast when she's cornered," Serina muttered.
"Good. Let her clear the trash. We'll handle the rest."
We leaked one name—just one.
A mid-tier noble tied to Avelar money.
Enough to feed the fires. Not enough to burn the whole hall.
But the wind was changing.
By noon, messengers were sprinting between ministries. By dusk, the Crown issued a closed-door inquiry.
Behind their walls, they scrambled.
Outside, we sharpened our blades.