The morning room was bright with sunlight.
Seren had chosen it deliberately; neutral ground, far from Rowan's quarters and Lysa's chambers. A place where no one had history. A place where they could start fresh.
Iris sat on the window seat, her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the garden below. Lysa sat on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, her posture rigid. Between them, Seren sat in a high-backed chair.
"Thank you for coming," Seren began. "Both of you."
Iris said nothing. Lysa nodded.
"I asked you here because I've been where both of you are." Seren's voice was calm, measured. "I've been the daughter who lost a parent. And I've been the woman trying to earn a place in a family that didn't want her."
Iris's jaw tightened. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're thirteen. I know your mother died. I know your father wasn't there." Seren leaned forward. "I also know that you're angry. Not at Lysa, at the world. At the unfairness of losing someone you loved."
