GRACE
They arrived at dawn.
I watched from the balcony as the council’s procession wound through the trees like a line of cloaked shadows. Their leader, High Chancellor Virell, rode at the front on a silver mare that looked like it had opinions about everyone present. Behind him, the rest of the council followed — grim-faced, stiff-backed, and radiating judgment like it was perfume.
Ulric stood beside me, arms crossed, jaw tight. “They’re early.”
“They’re suspicious,” I said. “Aurora falling into a coma the night before her trial? It’s not exactly subtle.”
He glanced at me. “You didn’t—”
“I didn’t poison her,” I said quickly. “I just… encouraged a nap. A very deep, very strategic nap.”
Ulric groaned. “Grace.”
“I had help,” I added. “Erika brewed the potion. And she added a binding
