He sat alone in his study, the leather of the chair creaking as he leaned back. A half-empty gss of bourbon rested on the table beside him, untouched for the st hour. His eyes fixed not on the drink, but on the faint flicker of movement in the monitors built discreetly into the wall paneling.

  He didn’t need the cameras to know. He already felt it. Noa and the storm. The Mistress and the broken crown. Marisol circling, testing, teaching. Even Genevra, slithering through corridors with that serpent’s tongue of hers. The house pulsed with pressure, and for the first time in months, it hummed exactly the way he wanted.

  He rubbed his jaw, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Softening wasn’t breaking—but it marked the necessary first step. Camille. He’d seen her leave the Mistress’s chamber, robe crooked, her eyes darting like a woman who knew she’d been marked. Pride rattled, legs unsteady. Genevra had been waiting, of course—always the vulture to circle first blood.

  He didn’t stop it. Let her cut. Let Camille feel the sting. When the time came, she’d be easier to take. And Savina—no, Liora now. He’d heard the name whispered in the halls, spoken with a mixture of awe and doubt. The storm already rebranded herself, already set her own fire. Bold. Reckless. Dangerous. And perfect.

  On another monitor, Marisol passed down a hallway, braid swinging, face unreadable. She had Liora’s scent on her now. He chuckled low.

  “Of course,” he muttered to himself. The Jewel never let a new piece shine without testing it herself.

  He leaned forward, cutting the monitors with a flick of his finger. The study fell quiet, the hum of the house settling into the bones of the estate. When the time came, he wouldn’t need to break the storm or the crown from scratch. The women were already softening them, carving cracks into their armor, setting the stage.

  All he would need to do was summon them. And when they entered the Room, they would not walk out the same. He lifted the gss, finally drinking deep, the burn sliding down his throat like promise.