The Royal Court convened under a sky bruised by storm clouds. The Queen had called for order a gathering of nobles, ministers, and the heads of every great house.
It was supposed to restore peace.
Instead, it ignited fear.
Word of the second dossier had cracked the court's foundation. Accusations buzzed like wasps behind every fan, under every breath. Even the marble pillars felt colder.
Queen Viora stood tall at the dais, her crown gleaming like a warning. Her expression was unreadable, carved from duty and disdain.
"This court," she said, voice carrying across the chamber, "has been infected with lies. Slander meant to destabilize not just my rule but the very idea of order."
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Except one.
From the back of the chamber, a woman's heels clicked on the marble floor. Noblemen parted, unsure if they should stop her or bow.
Evelyne Ashthorn entered.
And the court, for the first time in years, gasped.
She wore no crown. No title.
But power followed her like a shadow.
"I am the lie you buried," Evelyne said, stopping before the throne. "And now I've come to dig up the rest."
Gasps turned to murmurs. Some stepped back. Others stepped closer.
Queen Viora didn't flinch. "You should not be here."
"And yet," Evelyne replied, "here I stand."
"You have no right "
"I had the right when your court called for my execution without trial," Evelyne snapped, louder now. "I had the right when you used my death to protect your traitors. I had the right the moment you let them silence me."
Lucien stood to the side, silent, watching.
Waiting.
"This court belongs to the people," Evelyne continued. "And the people are watching now. They see your rot. Your cowardice. Your crimes."
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "You think truth is enough to change this kingdom?"
"No," Evelyne said, and her voice dropped low intimate and unshakable. "But it's enough to start the fire."
Silence followed.
Not weakness.
Not fear.
But choice.
And in that silence, something shifted.
A young nobleman stepped forward. Then another. A lady lowered her eyes and curtsied to Evelyne.
Not the Queen.
The court was no longer united.
And that, Evelyne knew, was the beginning.
She turned and walked out without waiting to be dismissed.
She didn't need the Queen's permission anymore.
She had the court's attention and its cracks.