"Sometimes, the truth doesn't set you free,it arms you."
The palace did not wake gently after what the saw happened the previous day.
It stirred.
Servants whispered in corners. Guards exchanged glances. Even the banners lining the halls seemed heavier, dragged down by the weight of what Elara had bled into the stone.
In her chambers, Elara stood by the balcony, without foot wares. Below, the sparring grounds clinked with the sounds of steel on steel, a rhythm louder than usual, sharper. She hadn't slept much. Her mind spun not with fear, but with focus.
Ana entered, parchment in hand. "Another summons. They want your ruling on land disputes in the Eastern Quarter."
Elara didn't turn. "Since when does fire settle farmland?" Why can't they just stop this summoning already?
M stepped from the shadows, arms crossed. "Since you made them look like children fumbling in the dark."
Elara finally faced them, voice calm. "Has the King spoken?"
"Not a word," M replied. "But he watches. And when kings watch in silence, it means something is shifting."
Ela ra folded the parchment and tossed it aside. "Let it shift."
In the royal study, the air was thick, and stuffed with the scent of old ink and firewood. King Theron stood still by the window, a scroll not yet opened in his hand. Roran stood at ease behind him, like a soldier waiting for a command he might never get.
The King said without turning, "She called out her name," "In the court."
Roran nodded. "Seraphina of the Flame. She didn't hesitate."
The King closed his eyes. His voice dropped. "I failed her. I was misinformed . Was what I did the best way?."
"And yet someone kept it alive," Roran added.
Theron finally turned, eyes hollow. "Who sent the message?"
"No seal. It was found in a wall niche behind the archives. Hidden. Old ink,rumourtle parchment."
The King stared at the scroll on the table, then at the map spread across the wall. "Someone's been playing a longer game than all of us."
"What now?"
"Now?" Theron said quietly. "We let the fire burn. Until it burns away the lies."
In the Empress's wing, everything followed. The air didn't move. Candles sputtered as though choking.
"She spoke the name. In open court."Lady Marellia said.
The Empress didn't blink. "I heard."
"She spoke it with certainty. Like she's known for years." How did she know all the details that only feeling people knew?
The Empress fastened her brooch, gaze distant. "Then it is time she learns that names can be weight,and weapons."
Marellia shifted. "Should we discredit her?"
"No," the Empress said. "We give her more rope."
"To hang herself?"
The Empress met her eyes. "To reveal who she intends to drag with her."
Later, in her room, Elara sat beside the fire, still in her court robes. The glow warmed her, but couldn't melt the chill burrowed beneath her ribs.
She found a note, folded and without a seal under her pillow.
The blade that killed your mother was not forged in war. It was signed in ink. Find the scribe.
Elara read it twice. Then again. The handwriting was unfamiliar. The meaning wasn't.
Ana entered with a tray of broth, but paused. "What is it?"
Elara handed her the note.
Ana read quickly. "You think it's real?"
"Too specific to be a rumor."
M entered from the terrace. "It's bait. Clean, subtle. Whoever left that note knows what it pulls on."
"And I intend to pull back," Elara replied.
"Carefully," Ana said. "This could be a trap."
Elara stood. "Then let them try to spring it. I'm done waiting for the truth to find me."
Slow, and steadily the rain began to fall rhythmically against the glass. rhythm against the glass.
Inside, she sharpened her resolve.