“You were erased in their house,” Allor Veris said. “Now they’ll have to listen.”
Silk whispered as the robe settled across her shoulders, heavier than she remembered, yet fitting like it had been waiting all along. The tailor stood back with quiet pride, nodding at the embroidered sigil now pressed over her chest. It was her mother’s crest—an open flame cradled in a steel ring. Once forgotten, now reborn.
Seren stared at herself in the mirror, the dark crimson fabric falling in clean lines, her hair braided high and tight. Her lips were calm. Her eyes weren’t. They burned beneath the surface, even if no one would ever see it.
Her dad entered without knocking, as always.
“They finished the stitching,” she said, adjusting the sleeve. “It looks right.”
He didn’t sit. Instead, he unfolded a scroll and spread it across the desk beside her.
“This is what you’re walking into. Dominion Court’s in worse shape than before. Divided. Stale. Still arguing over old land and older bloodlines.”
Seren joined him, scanning the list of council members. “Still mostly men.”
Allor gave a soft, humorless snort. “Entirely. They’ll pretend to welcome you—until you start talking.”
“The Darions won’t silence me this time,” she replied.
His hand hovered over the top of the scroll. “You were erased in their house,” he said again, firmer this time. “Now they’ll have to listen.”
Outside, the Federation Guard waited in full formation. Two black cars idled by the gate. As she stepped into view, the estate staff bowed in silence, a dozen heads lowered in respect not just for the name, but for the woman now bearing it.
The ride into Capitolum was short, but nothing about it felt familiar anymore. The city’s skyline stretched cold and high. Statues of old emperors lined the roads leading toward the palace steps. Federation banners whipped in the wind as the guards opened the gold gates.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, the whispers started.
“That’s her.”
“Is that—Calyx’s wife?”
“Not anymore. Veris’s daughter.”
Inside the great hall, the stir turned to a hum. Courtiers clutched their papers tighter. Pages rushed to alert their houses. A few turned to greet her with smiles too bright to be genuine. Others stared openly, frozen mid-step.
One minister whispered, “Did you know?” to another. The man only shook his head slowly.
The Darions weren’t present. Of course they weren’t. She moved through the corridors like she had never left, only now her pace was unhurried. Years ago, she’d trailed behind her husband’s stride, two steps back, speaking only when spoken to. Today, no one walked in front of her.
A chamber guard opened the carved wooden doors to the Federation’s inner hall. Seren entered first.
The council chamber stretched wide and circular, with marble columns circling the perimeter and banners of each major house suspended overhead. Her footsteps echoed. Every head turned.
Allor stepped in behind her and gestured toward the high dais.
“Not as a guest,” he murmured. “As an heir.”
After the briefing, he led her to a smaller chamber behind the hall. The walls were lined with books, old maps, and steel-blue curtains. He closed the door behind them.
“There’s a seat open,” he said. “One vote, one voice. Yours. No restrictions.” Seren didn’t answer right away. She moved to the window, watching the courtyards below.
“They’ll try to frame me as angry,” she said. “As spiteful. As a woman on a vendetta.”
“They’ll try,” he said. “But they don’t control the narrative anymore.”
She turned to face him, eyes steady. “If I accept, I want to rewrite legislation on alliance protections. I want independent representation for women who marry into ruling houses. No more silencing. No more erasure.”
Allor nodded once. “You’ll make enemies.”
“I already have,” she replied. “But this time, I’ll choose them myself.”
He stepped forward, placing the official document on the table. “Then sign it. Make it real.”
She took the pen, fingers firm.
She wasn’t here for revenge. She was here to rewrite the rules.