The corridors outside the throne hall seemed too quiet, too heavy, as though the walls themselves had swallowed the chaos of the court. Selena's steps echoed against the marble floor, but she barely heard them.
Her body still hummed with the aftershock of what had just happened—the staff's light, the whispers, the Queen's venom. It had all been too much, too fast.
A servant led her to a chamber high in the palace towers, a room she had never seen before. The door closed behind her with a dull thud, and suddenly the silence was unbearable.
Selena pressed her back against the door and slid down until she sat on the polished floor. Her hands trembled as she stared at her palms, half expecting the crest to blaze again. But her skin was only skin—ordinary, fragile, marked with faint scars from years in the wilderness.
Tears stung her eyes.
