[Lavinia's Pov]
It went on the whole day.
Nobles arrived in waves—cloaks flaring, boots echoing against marble. Their faces drawn, voices tight with urgency. Grand Duke Regis stormed through the west corridor, and Grandpa Gregor's cane clicked faster than usual as he muttered something to a red-robed tactician.
Advisors. Generals. Strategists. Battle-mages. Messengers with windburned cheeks.
All of them surged into the council chamber like someone had set fire to the empire's map.
And honestly?
They might as well have.
Because the whispers had changed.
No longer quiet. No longer speculative.
Louder now.
Sharper.
Clearer.
War.
Real war.
Outside my chambers, the palace buzzed like a hornet's nest kicked in the ribs. I could hear the difference—the shift. The palace no longer sounded like a place where people lived. It sounded like a place getting ready to defend itself.
