Serena barely remembered falling asleep. Her head had finally grown too heavy to hold up, her thoughts looping in a silent panic as she curled on the worn couch with a half-finished embroidery napkin still in hand. The last thing she remembered was the muted sound of patrols outside and the hum of Feyra’s energy, protective but withdrawn.
Morning came with a sharp knock on the door.
Not a polite one. Three solid raps, impatient and uninvited.
Serena shot upright. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she pushed her tangled hair from her face and stood, legs aching slightly from sleeping curled up. The room still smelled faintly of the tea she’d brewed last night—unconsumed. She rubbed at her neck, where the mark lay hidden, where everything always began and ended.
The knock came again.
She opened the door with more force than she intended, expecting Charlotte—or worse, Silas. Instead, she found Julian standing on the threshold, lips pursed like he’d bitten something sour.
"You’re wanted," he said curtly. "Now."
She blinked. "By whom?"
Her stomach dropped. "What—why?"
He looked her over and something passed through his expression—uncertainty? No, something more bitter. "You’ve stirred the pot again, haven’t you?"
Serena didn’t answer. She stepped aside, grabbed her cloak, and followed him without a word.
The halls of Ironshade were unusually quiet. Even the guards they passed seemed tense, nodding to Julian but avoiding Serena’s gaze entirely. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tried to quiet the dull throbbing in her head. The silence wasn’t natural. It was expectant.
Like the moments before a storm breaks.
They arrived at the council chamber faster than she hoped. The doors loomed ahead, already cracked open, voices murmuring within. She didn’t need super-hearing to recognize the rumble of Silas’s voice or the clipped edge of Evelyn’s. A third voice—cool and dispassionate—had to be Charlotte’s.
Julian didn’t enter with her. "You’ll do the talking," he said, and left her standing at the threshold alone.
Inside, the air was thicker.
Serena stepped forward and tried to hold her head high. Around the great stone table sat the familiar faces—Silas at the head, arms crossed. Elder Evelyn with her bony fingers steepled. Emmett, quiet and unreadable. Iris with her lips pressed in a tight line. And finally, Charlotte, lounging slightly, her eyes lazy as a cat’s, betraying nothing of last night’s conversation.
A chill worked its way into Serena’s bones.
"Serena of Crimsonclaw," Silas said. "You’ve been called here for clarification."
"Clarification?" she echoed.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.
"It’s come to our attention that tensions are rising surrounding the Dawnbreak delegation’s arrival," Evelyn said. "And questions remain about where your loyalties truly lie."
Serena’s throat dried. "You think I’ve done something to threaten this alliance?"
Silas’s lips thinned. "You are the only one whose allegiance is questioned both within and outside our walls."
"I was brought here," she said. "I didn’t ask to—"
"You were sent," Emmett cut in softly. "But the moment you stepped through Ironshade’s gates, you became one of ours—or not."
Serena’s eyes burned. She hated this—this quiet condemnation that never gave her a chance to speak until she was already on trial.
"What is it you want to know?" she asked.
Charlotte chuckled quietly. "Tell us, Serena. Do you plan to run?"
The question slapped her harder than expected. Her jaw twitched. That wasn’t a coincidence. Charlotte had listened to her thoughts—or guessed them too well.
"I..." She hesitated. "No."
She gritted her teeth. "I may have thought about it. But no. I won’t run."
Charlotte tilted her head. "Curious. That’s not what your eyes said last night."
Serena’s blood turned cold. "That was a joke, wasn’t it?"
Charlotte gave her an empty smile.
"Enough," Elder Iris said at last. "We are not here to debate what was or wasn’t a poor jest. We’re here to make a decision about whether this woman remains in a place of visibility during the Dawnbreak negotiations—or if she’s removed from sight entirely."
"What does that mean?" Serena asked sharply. "Removed?"
"Confined," Silas said, voice like granite. "No more meetings. No more contact. Not until we decide what threat—if any—you pose." Chapters first released on NoveI[F]ire.net
"You can’t be serious—"
"I am," he said. "Until we know what you are capable of, you will remain under watch."
It wasn’t prison. Not exactly. But it was enough to make her vision white at the edges. "You think I’ll sabotage you?"
Charlotte tapped a finger lazily against the table. "You’ve already done that, haven’t you? Just by being who you are."
That stung deeper than it should have.
Serena stood still as silence dragged again across the chamber. Her hands trembled at her sides. Feyra was quiet in her mind, for once not offering resistance or sarcasm. That silence was worse than any threat.
Finally, Evelyn spoke again. "You will be escorted back to your quarters. We will send word when a decision is made."
Serena didn’t move. "Does Darius know?"
Silas’s expression didn’t flicker. "He approved the meeting."
She wanted to ask if that meant he agreed, but she knew it didn’t matter. His absence said enough.
Julian was waiting outside. He didn’t look at her as he gestured down the hall. "This way."
Serena followed, pulse pounding in her ears. As they reached her door again, she turned to him.
"You believe them too?" she asked softly.
He paused, hand on the knob. "I believe we’ve all made mistakes. Yours just happen to be the kind people remember."
Then he left her in the doorway, alone again.
Serena shut the door behind her and leaned back against it, chest tight.
They had stripped her of freedom before she had even earned it.
She looked to the window again, to the guards below, then to the embroidery still left unfinished on the desk.
And it never would be unless she made it one.