The private solar above the papal war room felt smaller than usual that night. Heavy velvet drapes shut out the sky, and only three golden lamps burned low on the long table.
Half-empty wine cups sat beside scattered maps of the capital districts. In the center, a bowl of black roses had started to wilt, petals curling at the edges.
The harem had gathered without Aiden.
Catherine took the head of the table, back straight, chestnut hair still tied in the tight knot she had worn during the public fight earlier. Flora sat right beside her, posture almost identical to her mother's but with tighter shoulders.
Sabrina lounged across from them, one leg crossed over the other, fingers slowly tracing the glowing fracture line that ran along her wrist. Luna sat next to her, hands folded tightly in her lap, saying nothing.
Young Saintess Bela perched on the edge of her chair. Her white robes still carried soot marks from the monster attack, and her golden braid had come slightly loose.
