Lady Belin.
The name moved through the corridors like smoke. Even the servants lowered their voices when they spoke it. She was one of the most respected figures in Katarthan high society, known for her strict standards, unmatched influence, and a tongue that could cut deeper than any court decree.
Metheea had stood before crowds, nobles, and foreign envoys without faltering. She had endured the weight of Azrayel's gaze in public and the heat of his hands in private. None of that prepared her for this.
This reception was not a celebration.
It was an inspection.
Kalistra fastened the final clasp at the back of Metheea's gown with careful fingers. "This is important, Your Highness. Lady Belin does not open her doors for ceremony. She opens them to decide who belongs inside them."
Resme adjusted the fall of Metheea's sleeve in the mirror. Her voice stayed even. "She will test you. That is her right in these rooms."
