Lady Serathine retook her seat with impeccable grace, her expression composed, but the gleam in her eyes had sharpened. She wasn't just riding the wave of Gabriel's influence—she had timed it.
Her estate, though discreetly described as just outside the city, was in fact one of the oldest and most secure properties within the capital walls, surrounded by garden courtyards, ether-lit gates, and old blood secrets. Her wealth alone ensured her relevance, but now? With Gabriel's approval spoken in full view of the court?
It would be a diplomatic avalanche.
She didn't need to speak again. Her silence was enough—like a queen laying down her hand and watching the room scramble to catch up.
Across the table, Countess Myrenne's smile had faltered. The younger nobles were whispering now, veiled behind fans and polite coughs, already recalculating guest lists, rivalries, and favors owed.
What most of them didn't know—couldn't know—was that Serathine wasn't maneuvering alone.
