The following morning, the palace stirred long before sunrise.
By the time Cassandra’s carriage rolled through the palace gates, the courtyard was already alive with activity. Stable hands hurried between waiting horses while liveried footmen escorted nobles toward the eastern palace entrance. Ministers, advisors, military officers and members of the royal council crossed the grounds in small groups, a few of them carrying bundles of documents in their hands.
Council days were always busy.
A footman opened Cassandra’s carriage door.
"My lady."
Cassandra stepped onto the courtyard and glanced towards the palace.
She had attended hundreds of council meetings. Not once had she wondered if she was walking into a room filled with the very people who would one day conspire against her.
As she entered the palace, familiar greetings followed her through the corridors.
"Lady Cassandra."
"My lady."
She acknowledged each with a polite nod, but her thoughts remained elsewhere.
The great doors to the council chamber stood open.
Inside, servants made their final preparations. Fresh inkpots had been placed beside every seat. Crystal decanters of water lined the long polished table.
Queen Delphine had not yet arrived.
Thomas Fairmont lingered near the front of the chamber, conversing in low tones with another nobleman.
Cassandra recognized nearly everyone present.
Every person gathered here possessed influence over the kingdom.
Any one of them could have become an enemy.
The room gradually fell silent as queen Delphine entered.
As etiquette dictated, everyone seated rose to greet her.
Delphine acknowledged them with a single nod before taking her seat.
"You may be seated."
The scraping of chairs echoed briefly through the chamber.
Thomas was the only one who remained standing.
"The first matter before the council concerns the proposal submitted during last month’s session regarding the establishment of a permanent Royal Inspectorate."
Immediately, Cassandra noticed several nobles exchanging brief glances.
Thomas continued calmly. "The proposal recommends appointing royal inspectors with authority to travel throughout the kingdom, audit provincial finances, investigate complaints presented directly to the Crown, and report their findings independently to Her Majesty."
A brief hush followed as those present took in the implications of the Lord chancellor’s words.
Then the Duke of Aldermere, Simon Hartwell slowly rose from his seat.
He was an older man with neatly trimmed white hair and a dignified bearing. There was no mistaking him for anything other than a member of the aristocracy.
"Your Majesty, If I may," he began respectfully.
The queen waved a hand for him to go on.
"No one questions your intentions, your majesty. The Crown naturally wishes to weed out corruption and ensure justice throughout Arden. However, local governance has remained the responsibility of provincial lords for generations." Simon Hartwell said. "Introducing royal inspectors into every province would undermine that tradition."
Several heads nodded.
Delphine listened without interrupting. She was always open to hear the opinion of her subjects, even though they disagreed with her.
"The Crown cannot possibly understand the unique circumstances of every village, estate and township as well as those who govern them daily." Hartwell continued.
When he resumed his seat, another noble chimed in. The Marquess of Belchister.
"I share His Grace’s concerns. The proposal risks creating unnecessary tension between the Crown and its own nobility."
Another voice joined the debate.
Then another.
Each argument differed slightly.
Some spoke of tradition, others warned of excessive bureaucracy.
One insisted the proposal would burden the treasury.
No one directly challenged the Queen yet the opposition steadily grew.
Cassandra found herself paying less attention to the words than to the people speaking them.
Duke Hartwell.
Lord Mercer
Baron Montclair
Two Marquesses had spoken so far, William Ravenshire and Michael Waverly.
Five objections, from five influential families.
Cassandra frowned. She had no doubt that others had their objections as well but they thought it wise to hold their tongues for now.
The lord chancellor allowed every speaker to finish before calmly noting down each objection.
Not once did he reveal his own opinion. He merely guided the discussion forward.
"Lady Cassandra." The Queen’s voice drew her attention. "You’ve remained unusually quiet."
Several councillors turned towards her.
Usually by this point in a meeting, she would already have offered three counterarguments.
Today, she chose to simply observe, picking her words carefully.
"I’ve been listening, Your Majesty."
"And?"
"The proposal asks provincial lords to accept greater oversight from the Crown. It is understandable that some would regard that as an intrusion."
Several nobles appeared pleased by her answer. That was until she continued.
"However, honest administration has little to fear from transparency. If provincial governance is already just and accountable, independent inspections would merely confirm it."
Across the table, Hartwell’s lips thinned in disapproval.
She filed the reaction away.
"Does anyone else wish to address the proposal?" Thomas asked.
A chair scraped softly and a man at the distant edge of the table stood up.
Cassandra knew exactly who it was even without looking in his direction. She had been all too aware of his presence from the moment she stepped into the council chamber.
The duke of Norham. Draven Montague. Once she would have called him her friend. Now he was simply the man that abandoned her in her hour of need.
It took a great deal of effort to not look at him now.
He was younger than most of the men gathered around the council table, somewhere in his early thirties.
Tall and powerfully built, his broad frame filled the dark coat tailored for him without appearing overly muscular.
His black hair was neatly combed back from a face that was striking in a distinctly masculine way. A straight aristocratic nose complemented his sharp features, while his dark blue eyes held an intensity that made it difficult to look away for long.
There was nothing conventionally welcoming about him.
His expression remained dour, almost austere, and his steady, brooding gaze gave him an air of quiet reserve that many mistook for coldness.
Yet when the Duke of Norham entered a room, people noticed.
An arresting confidence surrounded him. Years of governing Norham, one of the wealthiest duchy in Arden and its most formidable military strongholds, had earned him both admiration and caution in equal measure.
Few questioned his judgement. Fewer still dared to dismiss it.