The summons arrived at noon.

  Sealed in crimson wax.

  Marked with the royal crest.

  Celia broke it without hesitation.

  “Lady Celia Valmont is to appear before the Crown at tomorrow’s high assembly. Matters of state security will be discussed.”

  State security.

  How dramatic.

  Marianne stood across from her desk, pale. “This is because of the Ardentis agent.”

  “Yes,” Celia replied calmly. “And because Harrington ensured it would be.”

  “You think he reported it?”

  “I think,” she corrected softly, “he framed it properly.”

  A private interception could be spun into many narratives.

  Unauthorized detainment. Abuse of power. Independent militia formation.

  The duke would not accuse her directly.

  He would simply ask questions.

  In public.

  Which meant—

  She would answer.

  In public.

  Perfect.

  The Grand Hall was fuller than usual.

  Whispers carried like wildfire through dry brush.

  Celia entered without rush, dressed in white and silver. No dark tones. No suggestion of threat.

  Visibility required innocence.

  King Aldren sat rigid upon the throne. To his right—Duke Harrington.

  To his left—

  An unfamiliar man.

  Robes of deep sapphire. A sigil embroidered in gold.

  Ardentis.

  They had sent a representative.

  Bold indeed.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Lady Valmont,” the king began, voice measured, “reports indicate you detained an operative without royal sanction.”

  Celia bowed gracefully.

  “I detained an intruder within my private estate, Your Majesty.”

  Murmurs.

  The Ardentis representative stepped forward.

  “Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, “our envoy was conducting diplomatic observation when he was assaulted and restrained by Lady Valmont’s… unnatural methods.”

  Unnatural.

  Ah.

  So that was the angle.

  Paint her as dangerous.

  Uncontrolled.

  A threat to stability.

  Celia lifted her gaze calmly.

  “Diplomatic observation does not typically involve trespassing before dawn.”

  A ripple of restrained amusement passed through the court.

  The representative did not flinch.

  “Our envoy perceived hostility and acted defensively.”

  “And yet,” Celia replied evenly, “he carried no credentials. No declaration. No escort.”

  Silence.

  The king’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.

  Harrington finally spoke.

  “Lady Valmont,” he said, voice smooth as polished steel, “regardless of intent, detaining foreign envoys without consultation risks escalation.”

  There it is.

  Not accusation.

  Concern.

  He was positioning himself as protector of balance.

  Celia turned toward him.

  “Escalation occurs when boundaries are tested and left undefended,” she said calmly. “I defended mine.”

  The Ardentis representative smiled faintly.

  “Your methods are… feared, Lady Valmont.”

  “And respected,” she corrected.

  The king raised a hand.

  “Enough.”

  The hall quieted instantly.

  He studied Celia carefully.

  “Did this envoy threaten the realm?”

  Celia paused.

  This was the pivot.

  If she exaggerated, she would appear paranoid.

  If she minimized, she would appear reckless.

  “He tested security,” she said at last. “If I had allowed him to proceed, Your Majesty, the question would not be whether he threatened the realm—but what he discovered.”

  A subtle shift in the room.

  Now the fear was not of her.

  It was of vulnerability.

  The king leaned back.

  “And what do you propose?”

  She met his gaze directly.

  “A formal boundary decree. Any foreign operative entering noble estates without declared purpose will be treated as a hostile actor.”

  A law.

  Public.

  Neutral.

  It protected her—

  And everyone else.

  Harrington’s eyes sharpened.

  Clever.

  Opposing the decree would make him appear careless about noble security.

  Supporting it would legitimize her actions.

  The Ardentis representative’s smile faded slightly.

  “You presume much authority,” he said quietly.

  Celia’s expression did not change.

  “I presume responsibility.”

  Silence stretched.

  Then—

  The king nodded slowly.

  “The decree will be drafted.”

  A clean decision.

  Publicly justified.

  Strategically devastating.

  Ardentis had tried to corner her.

  Instead, she had strengthened her legal position.

  The representative bowed stiffly.

  “This will be remembered.”

  Celia inclined her head slightly.

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  As the court dispersed, Harrington approached her once more.

  “You turned accusation into legislation,” he murmured.

  “You turned grain into leverage,” she replied smoothly.

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  “You are forcing the board to shrink.”

  “Yes.”

  “And when there is no room left?”

  Celia’s eyes cooled.

  “Then someone falls off.”

  For a moment, something unreadable passed between them.

  Not alliance.

  Not hostility.

  Recognition.

  “You enjoy this,” Harrington said quietly.

  Celia considered the question.

  “No,” she answered honestly.

  “I simply refuse to lose.”

  Outside, the sky darkened with gathering clouds.

  The hero stepped beside her as they descended the palace steps.

  “That was dangerous.”

  “Yes.”

  “You made Ardentis an open enemy.”

  “They were already.”

  He studied her profile.

  “And Harrington?”

  Celia’s gaze lifted to the storm-heavy horizon.

  “He’s waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “For me to miscalculate.”

  Lightning split the sky in the distance.

  She smiled faintly.

  “He will be disappointed.”