The chamber emptied slowly.
No declarations. No applause. Just retreat.
The Queen said nothing. She didn't need to. Her silence was permission—both to dig, and to destroy.
Serina met me outside the chamber.
"That was a beginning," she said.
"Or an end, waiting to happen."
For three days, nothing moved.
No new edicts. No arrests. No reports.
But eyes followed me wherever I went. At court. At the academy. Even at the chapel.
"They're waiting," Serina said. "Not because they believe her. But because they're afraid of you."
"Then we make fear work for us."
The next morning, I found a letter slipped into my books.
No name. No seal.
Just five words:
You missed someone. She knows.
I looked up. Across the library, Reina was watching me.
And this time, she smiled.