Maeve says the Royal Court like it's a destination we can simply walk toward.

Then she stops talking. Her head turns toward the front room. Tessa's does too, and I smell it a second later. Floral. Sharp. The same wrong thread that found us in the forest.

The Royal escort does not enter when I tell them not to. That is the first useful thing they do.

Three riders wait beyond Maeve's fence line, visible through the trees but far enough back that Tessa can keep a knife in her hand without anyone pretending she's

The Royal Court is smaller than Ironveil's ceremony hall. That surprises me.

I expected marble, banners, people waiting to tell me what blood means. Instead Evan takes me through a side entrance into a stone building that smells like old paper, metal seals, an