By dawn, the palace had shifted.
There was no proclamation in the court, no decree etched into record, yet Lady Seraphine was no longer permitted to cross the palace gates. It was not a sentence for the world to hear, but a silent understanding that was sealed between the Crown Prince and the Lord of House Dorovian.
For the sake of the House's dignity, no whispers escaped beyond those doors. But when the news reached Seraphine's ears, she was far from pleased. The role of representative had been stripped from her and reassigned by her father's own command, severing her standing at the Crown's side.
Seraphine paced the length of her solar like a thunder in silk, the sealed parchment crumpled white in one hand. The royal seal — the impossible, humiliating seal — stared up at her as if accusing her. She had expected denials and barbs from the court, not the quiet, surgical manner in which her standing had been stripped away.
