"Doesn't matter," Elara interrupted. "I'm still royal blood. Attacking me openly is attacking the imperial family. No minor noble wants that scrutiny." She let that settle. "And the major nobles? The ones with real power? They're in the capital, fighting over succession. They don't care about a single supermarket in Port Crestfall."
"What if one of your sisters sends someone?" Mira asked quietly.
Elara's expression didn't change. "Then we deal with it the same way we dealt with the assassins. Quietly. Efficiently. And we make sure it's more trouble than it's worth to try again."
The room went quiet.
Dimitri cleared his throat. "Your Highness, there's one more thing." He pulled out a ledger—thinner than usual, which meant bad news. "The palace funds still haven't arrived."
"I know."
"We have enough capital to start construction, but if costs run over—"
"They won't."
"But if they do—"
"Dimitri." Elara's voice was calm. "Do you trust my projections?"
