The lower corridors of the palace had always carried their own rhythm: soft footsteps, murmured conversations, the clatter of trays and the distant ring of bells calling servants to duty. But in the weeks after the victory over Magnus, that rhythm had changed. There was a new undercurrent, a quiet tension that Seren's heightened senses picked up the moment she walked through the servant quarters.
She had come down from the royal wing unannounced, needing a moment away from the endless council meetings and the weight of the crown. The bond hummed gently with her mates' awareness; Kael's protective concern, Aeron's quiet approval of her need for space, Theron's subtle shadows trailing her for safety, but she had asked for privacy. Just for a little while.
Lysa found her near the old laundry courtyard, where lines of washing still fluttered in the breeze. She carried a small basket of fresh linens but set it down the moment she saw Seren.
