Seris had always thought herself clever. Calculating. Brilliant even.
So when the guards dragged her back into the nest like an unruly hatchling, she still clung to that confidence. She kicked, clawed, and spat fireless words, demanding to be released, insisting she had every right to confront the Chancellor himself. The moment they threw her back into her chamber, she straightened her robes, hair a storm around her face, and shouted through the door.
"This is a misunderstanding! I'll see the Chancellor at once. He will explain everything!"
But no one came.
Instead, the attendants who glimpsed her through the crack of the door looked at her in silence, their eyes shadowed, their expressions grim. Not one of them seemed sympathetic. Not one offered even the smallest bow of courtesy. That look—that silent judgment—made her chest burn hotter than any dragon flame.
How dare they?!
