CHAPTER 75
The next morning, Grace sat at the long table in the war room, surrounded by maps and sealed letters.
Her mind wasn't on war logistics or trade routes.
Her fingers tapped slowly against the wood with tensed knuckles.
She hadn't slept.
Her powers had cooled just enough for her vision to steady, but every movement felt like wading through something denser than air. Like walking through memory. Through ash.
"Your Majesty."
A voice broke the stillness.
Grace lifted her gaze.
Mathew Sterrn stood just beyond the doorway, hesitant. His face was unreadable, though his shoulders betrayed a subtle tightness.
"Speak," she said.
"There's tension among the soldiers," he said carefully." Some of them believe something unnatural is happening. They talk about your eyes. The heat. The wind last night."
Grace leaned back. "Let them talk."
Mathew frowned. "And if it spreads beyond the barracks?"
"Then let it." Her voice hardened. "I'm not here to soothe their fears."
