The palace trembled in the wake of her schemes.
Like a master weaver, she pulled invisible threads—and watched as the mighty stumbled. The foreign nobles' plot, once a looming shadow, now lay in ruins at her feet, its architects broken by the very corruption they'd sought to exploit.
In the aftermath, the Crown Prince studied her with new eyes. "Your mind..." He shook his head, half admiration, half wariness. "It outmaneuvers even my expectations."
She smiled—a razor's edge of a thing. "We've only just begun."
Her words hung in the air like a promise carved in stone. No longer the shadow behind the throne, no mere advisor whispering counsel.
She was the storm.
And the palace would learn to kneel.
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and then Add to home screen.