Ingrid’s calm composure faltered at the remark.

People had spoken to her before, directly and indirectly alike, always reminding her that her position could vanish at any moment. That she stood on borrowed ground. That she was only ever one breath away from being discarded.

But to hear it from such a young woman...

It was another matter entirely.

She had already been preparing to speak to the King about Rosalyn. If the girl was this bold before even entering the royal family, then what would she become after helping Theron stabilize the throne? What would become of Ingrid, and of her son, when that happened?

No. That could not be allowed.

"Positions shift," Ingrid said lightly, though a faint smile hovered at her lips while bitterness coiled beneath it. "Like the spokes of a wheel. Up, then down. So the saying goes." Her gaze lingered on Rosalyn for a moment. "Though for some, the fall is far steeper than the rise."

Rosalyn caught the edge in her tone and adjusted at once.

"Of course, Your Grace," she said softly. "But that doesn’t apply to you. You are the axis of the wheel. Irreplaceable."

Ingrid noticed the retreat. Rosalyn had backed off the moment she sensed the pressure turning. Still, Ingrid did not understand why the girl was here at all.

So she cut straight to the point.

"I heard the Crown Prince is interested in someone else."

Rosalyn’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the teacup handle.

"And that is precisely why I do not covet the position of Queen," she said in a low voice. "I envy you, Your Grace. You have the heart and the ear of His Majesty."

Ingrid said nothing, watching her closely.

Rosalyn’s expression did not break. Not even once.

"I would have overlooked it if he had simply kept her hidden," she continued, her voice sharpening with quiet disgust, "like the maggot she is. But he dared to threaten me for her."

There was no need for her to fake the hatred in her tone. It came too naturally, too cleanly. Ingrid could hear the truth in it.

"Do you want the engagement annulled?" Ingrid asked.

Rosalyn leaned forward slightly, a slow smile curving her lips.

"I want something better."

Her voice dropped lower, more intimate, more dangerous.

"I want him to believe I am on his side. I want him distracted by that nobody while I pull the rug out from beneath him."

Her smile thinned.

"If the Crown Prince appears unstable... unsupported... alternatives become attractive."

That was all Ingrid needed to hear.

Theron was ignoring the marriage the King had already mandated, and instead wasting his attention on some nobody. That was weak enough to use.

And Rosalyn... if she gave a convincing reason, then Ingrid would believe she was useful. Loyal. On her side.

Ingrid would not allow the engagement to break just yet.

Not if it could be turned into a weapon first.

And Rosalyn intended to stay near Theron long enough to become indispensable, then outmaneuver every one of them.

-----

Theron waited outside his father’s chambers early that morning, the moment he realized Ingrid was not with him.

It was rare to catch the King alone, and he intended to use the chance to speak plainly, to end his engagement to that despicable woman once and for all.

The mere thought of the tantrum his mother would throw made his temples ache, but he no longer cared. Aveline came first. She was the only one who cared for him without condition, without calculation. The others only drained him.

Still, after waiting so long, he could not understand why he was not being allowed in.

"Is His Majesty in council with someone?" he asked the guard stationed outside.

The guard bowed respectfully. "No one has entered this door, Your Royal Highness."

Theron’s brows drew together. That was not the answer to the question he had asked.

Just then, Ingrid appeared at the far end of the corridor, her perfume reaching him before she did. She was dressed simply, yet she moved with such practiced grace that Theron frowned and turned his head away.

"Oh, you are here," Ingrid said lightly.

Theron looked at her and gave a curt nod. He had no desire to speak to her.

Without hesitation, she pushed open the door. The guards moved to stop her, but one sharp look from her was enough to make them retreat.

She slipped inside, her silk shawl sliding from one shoulder and revealing the thin strap beneath. One hand remained on the door as she smiled sweetly.

"My King, I am not disturbing you, am I?"

The King’s voice drifted out from within, soft and low. "You never could, darling."

Theron blinked. He had been waiting here for nearly an hour, and she had simply walked in?

Ingrid turned back with a faint smirk, and the door shut in Theron’s face.

His fingers curled into fists.

A small portal flickered open at his side, and a note was passed through it. Kael.

[Lady Rosalyn met with Ingrid moments ago. She is still in the palace.]

Theron crushed the paper in his hand. Then, without bothering with ceremony, he opened the door and strode in.

And there they were.

His father sat on the couch, while Ingrid leaned against him, her shoulders bare beneath a silk nightgown that clung softly to her skin. When she saw Theron, she quickly covered herself. The King saw it too, and his expression hardened at once.

"What is so urgent?" he asked.

Theron ignored the warning in his father’s tone. He was used to it.

"Father, when you asked me whether I liked the lady I am betrothed to," he said, voice tight, "what did you mean? Is there room for refusal?"

The King’s brows furrowed.

But before he could answer, Ingrid spoke first.

"In matters of state, haste has buried more crowns than hesitation ever did," she said gently, sitting beside the King as though she were only offering well-meant counsel. "You are young, Your Highness. Young blood is quick to reject what it does not yet understand."

Her fingers rested calmly against the arm of the chair.

"The Caelvaris family is not a house one dismisses in wounded impulse. Alliances such as these are not woven in a day... nor severed in one."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady on Theron.

"And unless I am mistaken, you have hardly given the lady the courtesy of being known before deciding she is unfit to stand beside you."

Then, after the briefest pause, she added, "You would not wish to appear impulsive... or selfish."

Her tone remained smooth, diplomatic, almost kind.

"I will speak plainly, since few here dare to. We are all aware of the woman you chose to bring with you from Aurelmont..."

The words hung in the chamber like silk drawn taut over a blade.

"To cast aside a noble alliance for the sake of personal attachment would invite talk, Your Highness. Cruel talk. About your judgment... and perhaps even about the stability of the future crown itself."

Theron could see exactly what she was doing. He could see the careful manipulation beneath every polished word. But he looked past her and at his father instead.

"No matter how well I know her," he said coldly, "I will not like Lady Rosalyn. Not for her family, and not for anyone else."

His voice did not rise. It did not need to.

The King observed Theron.