The palace was unusually quiet, its grand halls steeped in a tense silence. The reforms Damien had pushed through had begun to ripple across Winter's Crown, stirring a mix of hope and anger among its citizens. But within the court, the air was thick with resistance.
Damien sat in the war room, his steel-gray eyes fixed on a letter in his hand. It was one of many he had received over the past week—anonymous threats from nobles who resented the new policies. Each one was more venomous than the last.
"You look like you're about to break something," Amara said as she entered, her sharp blue eyes glinting with amusement. She leaned casually against the table, her daggers strapped to her sides.
Damien set the letter down with a sigh. "They're afraid. The reforms are taking power out of their hands, and they don't like it."
"They'll get over it," Amara said with a shrug. "Or they won't. Either way, you're doing the right thing."
