By morning, the warmth of the west tower had vanished, replaced by whispers that traveled faster than footsteps.
In the academy's marble corridor, Reina walked at the center of a circle — new nobles, old names, and tutors too eager to flatter.
I kept my pace slow. Observing. Listening.
"She's just upset the prince wouldn't speak for her," someone muttered.
"No, no. Haven't you heard? There's something about a ledger, forged perhaps."
"Reina's the one keeping the academy civil. We should be grateful."
Every word was a nudge, a brick in the wall they were quietly rebuilding — not for truth, but for power.
In my hands, the real ledger burned with silence.
I handed it to Serena under the shade of the library's west wing.
"Plant it," I whispered. "Let them trip over their own lies."
She nodded, but her eyes flicked beyond me.
"They're watching you now. Closely."
Back in the dormitory, an envelope sat on my desk — black wax seal, no crest.
Inside: a single line.
"The queen prefers obedience over brilliance. And she is watching."
I crushed the note in my fist, and for a moment, the air shimmered with magic I hadn't summoned.
Someone wanted me scared.
They'd have to try harder.