By morning, the court had changed.
Servants bowed deeper when Serenya passed. Nobles avoided her gaze—or watched her with thinly veiled unease. Word of the previous day's mercy had spread like a quiet storm. Some called it weakness. Others whispered that the human bride had softened the Ice Emperor's wrath.
Both ideas terrified them.
Serenya sat beside Vael during council, hands folded calmly in her lap. She did not speak unless addressed, yet her presence alone shifted the balance of the room. When disagreements flared, Vael listened longer than usual. When tempers rose, his ice did not immediately answer.
The nobles noticed.
One woman in silver fur finally broke the silence. "Your Majesty," she said smoothly, "the Empress has no understanding of our laws. Perhaps she should be excused from council matters."
The air froze solid.
Before Vael could respond, Serenya spoke. "Then teach me."
The woman faltered.
"I was raised among ledgers and treaties," Serenya continued. "I understand power built on fear… and power built on trust. You may choose which you prefer."
A dangerous pause followed.
Vael leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving Serenya. "She stays."
That was the end of it.
Later, as the council dispersed, Serenya felt eyes following her—calculating, resentful, afraid. She had crossed an invisible line.
That night, Vael summoned her privately.
"You are becoming a symbol," he said. "Symbols attract blades."
"Then let them come," Serenya replied. "I won't hide behind your throne."
He stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the chill of him and the steady weight of his attention. "You already stand where no one else dares."
For a moment, something almost like admiration flickered in his eyes.
The court feared her now.
And fear, Serenya was learning, could be a weapon—
if wielded carefully.