The air in the Royal Courtroom didn't just feel cold; it felt sterile.

  It was the temperature of a fresh grave, scrubbed of mercy until the very oxygen tasted like judgment.

  Kestrel stood at the epicenter of the vast, echoing hall.

  Her back was a rigid line of defiance, her eyes locked onto Prince Arthur.

  Beside her, Baron Vane-or the hollowed husk that remained-stood in a silence so heavy it felt structural.

  Kestrel could feel the eyes of the High Nobility pressing into her like physical weights.

  In this room, she was a legend; but as any soldier knows, a legend is just a statue waiting for a hammer.

  Finally, Arthur broke the silence. He lounged on his throne, a crown of effortless arrogance resting on his brow.

  "You know..." Arthur began, his voice smooth as silk but twice as sharp. "I’ve always wondered how a mere 'noble'—a commoner in the eyes of the True Blood-was crowned the strongest during your time.You have no magic. No ancestral spark. Kestrel....perhaps you were just a mistake the gods forgot to correct."

  Kestrel’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smirk.

  It wasn't the smile of a grandmother; it was the baring of teeth from a predator that had lived through a thousand winters.

  "You would understand my Lord, if you had possessed the courage to face me in my prime," she replied. Her voice was calm, yet it carried the resonance of a funeral bell.

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. The court held its breath. The disrespect was mutual now.

  "I didn't summon you for a history lesson," Arthur snapped, leaning forward. The "Golden Prince" persona slipped, revealing the petty tyrant beneath. "I summoned the Vanes to witness the end of a nuisance. Tell me, why shouldn't I watch the Baron's head be separated from his shoulders right here?"

  "Because you are a Prince, not a butcher," Kestrel said, her voice dropping an octave. "And because the Vane family has served this crown for generations."

  Arthur laughed, a cold, dry sound. "The decision has already been made. The Vane family is officially stripped of its nobility. Your lands are forfeit. Your bloodline will be diluted, married off into lesser houses until the name 'Vane' is nothing but a footnote in a dusty ledger. I am officially wiping you from history."

  The words hit like a physical blow. To a warrior like Kestrel, death was nothing-but erasure was a slow-acting poison.

  "Why?" Kestrel’s voice trembled, not with fear, but with the effort to remain composed. "Why destroy an entire house for the sins of one man?"

  "Do not play the fool. It’s beneath you," Arthur hissed. "The Vane tax collectors have been nothing but legalized thugs. Violence, extortion, corruption... it’s in your marrow. Like father, like son. The lineage of the 'Greatest Female Warrior' is tainted by her own filth."

  Kestrel’s hand clenched at her side, her knuckles turning white. The mention of her son was a serrated blade across an old wound.

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  She took a deep, shuddering inhale.

  "Which is why, my Lord," she said, her voice regaining its iron, "I have a proposition."

  Arthur arched an eyebrow. "A proposition? From a woman who owns nothing but the clothes on her back?"

  "The Vane family will take in the Baron," Kestrel stated. "He will be under my strict, personal monitoring. I will be his shadow and his cage. I guarantee he will commit no further crimes."

  Arthur leaned back, a cruel glint in his eyes. "And if he does?"

  "Then I will deliver his head to you myself."

  The conviction in her voice sent a chill through the room. This wasn't a hollow promise. It was a death pact.

  "What makes you think I'd accept such a gamble? The ACA wants him deleted," Arthur said.

  Kestrel looked at the boy beside her. "Look at him. You see the body of Baron Vane-a shell of a man you hate. But look at the soul inside. This boy is clean of those sins. He is not the monster you remember. He is a second chance."

  Arthur opened his mouth to deliver the killing blow, but a soft, melodic voice drifted from behind the throne.

  "Enough, Arthur."

  Princess Seraphine stepped forward. She didn't shout, but the effect was instantaneous.

  Arthur froze, his jaw tightening, before he slumped back. The lion had been muzzled by a whisper.

  "If anyone objects to the Vane matriarch’s proposition... speak now," Arthur muttered.

  Silence followed. Until a shadow moved.

  "One moment, Arthur."

  It was Malakor, of House Umbra. The only man who could call the Prince by his first name and keep his tongue.

  Before Kestrel could blink, the world blurred. No footsteps, nor wind.

  In the span of a heartbeat, Malakor had deleted the space between them. He was simply there.

  Malakor leaned in, his face inches from Kestrel’s. He whispered, his voice like velvet over a razor blade.

  "If the Baron spills a single drop of blood from one of my kin," Malakor murmured, playfulness dancing in his eyes, "I won't just take his head. I will pull the Vane family tree up by the roots and burn it until not even the ash remembers your name."

  Then, his face broke into a warm, charming smile. He patted Kestrel’s shoulder like an old friend and strolled back.

  Kai stood frozen. He couldn't stop the involuntary gulp that escaped him.

  "Malakor Umbra," Elara whispered, her voice vibrating with fear. "The strongest human being in the kingdom. That is what true power looks like, Kai."

  "The Vane family is dismissed," Arthur called out. "Leave my sight."

  The descent was a grueling 347 flights of stone stairs. The silence was suffocating. Kai and Elara trailed behind, whispering in the dark like children after a scolding.

  When they finally reached the bottom, where the cool evening air hit their faces, Kestrel stopped.

  "The rest of you, go ahead," she commanded. "I need to speak with the boy. Alone."

  They filed away, leaving Kai standing in the shadow of the great spire. He expected a lecture. He expected the weight of the world.

  Instead, Kestrel turned. The "Greatest Warrior" mask fell away. She looked at him, and for the first time, her smile was genuine-warm and soft, like a hearth fire at the end of winter.

  She reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

  "You did good out there, boy," she whispered. Her eyes shimmered with a hint of something she would never admit was a tear. "I’m grateful the gods gave me another chance at this. I'm grateful for you."

  For a moment, the fear faded. In that quiet courtyard, Kai felt home.

  "But don't get comfortable," Kestrel’s voice regained its edge. "Tomorrow, the real work begins. If you’re going to survive the Royal Families, you need to know exactly what kind of monsters we’re dealing with."

  She looked back up at the high, glowing windows of the palace.

  "It’s time you learned what the Royal Bloodlines can actually do."