The dowager queen Aelira's brow furrowed, though her lips pressed tightly together, as if her thoughts themselves were dangerous to release.
The chamber around them, with its high-vaulted ceiling and carved columns, seemed suddenly smaller, its air thick with unspoken judgment.
Lady Levina's jaw tightened, but she held her tone steady, her voice a careful balance between filial respect and political counsel.
"Would you rather tear the family apart? The court already gossips. If you strike against his bride, you strike against him. And that will undo us faster than any curse."
Her words cut through the chamber like a blade.
Lady Aelira's fingers twitched beneath her daughter's calming hand, caught between pride and fear. "You speak too boldly, Levina. You forget yourself."
"Better boldness than blindness," lady Levina countered, her golden hair catching the gleam of the firelight.
She lifted her chin, refusing to falter before the queen who had birthed her.
