THE HIGH COUNCIL'S DECREE didn't fall like thunder.
It crept in like a lock clicking shut.
Mailah realized that was what unsettled her most—not the threat of chains, not even the implication that Grayson had been quietly demoted, but how cleanly it all happened. No dramatic confrontation. No flames licking marble columns. Just a neat, bloodless rearranging of power that left him standing in his own library like a guest who'd overstayed his welcome.
Which, she decided, was the cruelest kind of conquest.
The walk to the library felt longer than it should have. Perhaps it was the way the estate itself seemed to have shifted its mood, the shadows in the corners stretching like curious fingers.
Or perhaps it was simply the fact that every time Mailah took a step, she was reminded of the fire Grayson had kindled in her bones just hours before.
