As the gathering finally came to an end, the noblewomen slowly filtered from the queen’s wing in clusters of soft conversation and rustling silk.

Servants moved ahead of them to open doors while palace guards remained stationed silently on their respective posts. The warm atmosphere from earlier still lingered among most of the women now, several of them openly discussing how unexpectedly pleasant the afternoon had been.

Avarine listened to it all with mounting irritation but she kept it from showing as she followed along beside the others, her hands hanging loosely at her sides.

Sunlight spilled through the tall windows lining the passage. Then she spotted Ophelia several steps ahead.

Perfect.

Avarine quickened her pace slightly until she fell into step beside her.

"Ophelia," she greeted warmly.

Ophelia turned to face her with an easy smile on her lips. "Avarine." She said excitedly. "Can you believe it? There is a chance the both of us might be chosen to be a part of her majesty’s ladies in waiting.

The two had known each other for years, family acquaintances, though their relationship had never progressed beyond polite familiarity. Ophelia was pleasant enough, well connected enough, and most importantly, the sort of woman who enjoyed gossip a little too much.

Exactly the kind of person Avarine needed.

As they continued down the corridor together, Avarine lowered her voice just enough to ensure no one nearby would overhear. When she finally spoke, her tone carried a fake sweetness that sounded sincere and harmless to anyone listening.

"What did you think of our new queen?" she asked lightly.

The question sounded harmless. Curious.

The question sounded innocent enough, but there was nothing innocent about Avarine’s intentions. She was fishing for information, testing the waters to see how the nobles already felt about Circe and how easily their opinions could be shaped into something uglier.

Ophelia considered it for a moment.

"She seems quite kind," she admitted. "Nothing like I thought she would be."

A sharp wave of annoyance flared through Avarine so suddenly that she nearly grimaced. She quickly smoothed her expression before Ophelia could notice. By the next second, the woman was already looking at her expectantly.

"What do you think of her?" Ophelia asked, looking at her intently.

There it was.

Avarine’s opportunity but she knew that she still had to thread carefully with this.

"I met her twice before when I visited Amris," she said. "What I can say is that she certainly was not as warm then as she appeared today."

She laced her words with just enough softness to avoid sounding openly malicious, though beneath the sweetness lay pure spite. Avarine was hateful by nature, but she had long mastered the art of disguising that awful side of herself behind polished manners and pleasant smiles.

Ophelia frowned slightly. "Perhaps she simply wasn’t in a pleasant mood when you met her."

"Then Her Majesty’s moods must change very frequently," Avarine replied, her tone bordering on snide despite her efforts to hide it.

Before Ophelia could respond, Avarine tilted her head slightly. "I heard she is with child."

Ophelia halted instantly.

"What?" she whispered. "Are you certain?"

A small satisfaction unfurled in Avarine’s chest.

The pregnancy was not public knowledge yet. Circe had clearly taken precautions to hide it during the gathering by wearing a gown that was a bit more voluminous and looser around the waist to hide the small swell beginning to show beneath her usual dresses.

Avarine had learned of it through her mother and now she had deliberately revealed it without the slightest trace of guilt.

"I would not say it if I were unsure," she replied smoothly.

Shock still lingered plainly across Ophelia’s face.

Avarine lowered her voice further.

"Can you imagine it? Our kingdom’s future ruler will have Westerian blood. Generations of preserved royal Lamorian lineage altered because of her." She sighed softly. "It is rather sad when you think about it."

"You should not say such things aloud," Ophelia hurriedly muttered, glancing around the corridor in alarm to ensure nobody nearby had overheard them.

"But it is true," Avarine said. "And surely I cannot be the only person who thinks so."

Her expression remained the same, only this time she looked almost saddened.

"Her Majesty is a foreigner," she continued quietly. "She does not even speak our language, and it is obvious she knows very little about our customs or our people. How can someone rule a kingdom she barely understands?"

Ophelia did not have an answer, so Avarine went on. "And besides, everyone knows how those foreign women can be. They arrive in our kingdom and they cast aside their morals as easily as they discard their clothes. You hire one as a servant one day, and the next you discover her in bed with your husband."

"Avarine." Ophelia chided.

"I am only saying what many already think," Avarine continued, ignoring her chastising tone. "And it is difficult to know whether Her Majesty is truly any different when there were already rumors surrounding her in Amris."

Ophelia frowned faintly, though she still listened, engrossed by every word coming out of Avarine’s mouth.

"The last time my mother visited his majesty’s estate, she mentioned how unusually close Circe had become with several male staff. And that queen Circe was particularly close with Mister Minovo." Avarine said. "It is hardly proper for a woman of her station to surround herself so freely with male companions. Eventually people begin assuming the worst."

Though she never voiced any direct accusations, the implication behind her words was unmistakable.

For several moments, Ophelia remained silent as she absorbed Avarine’s words. By then, they had nearly reached the palace courtyard where elegant carriages waited.

Finally, Ophelia spoke again, though more cautiously this time. "My uncle attended Prince Hairan’s coronation. He claimed he witnessed Her Majesty using magic unlike anything he had ever seen before. He has been deeply unsettled by it ever since. Especially because His Majesty has yet to address the matter publicly."

Avarine had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress the smile threatening to form.

"Then perhaps, you should speak to more people about your concerns. You may be surprised by how many share the same thoughts."

Both women soon parted ways.

As Avarine climbed into her own carriage, she finally allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

Back in Amris, she had attempted to spread rumors about Circe before, but nothing had truly stuck. Circe had rarely appeared in public then, preferring to remain tucked away within Ragnar’s estates like some sheltered princess hidden high inside a tower. There had been little opportunity for gossip to spread properly or even affect her life.

But things were different now. Circe was queen. She could no longer avoid court, noble gatherings, or the endless scrutiny that came with wearing a crown. Every action she took would now be watched and judged by an entire kingdom.

And Avarine intended to make full use of that.

Rumors spread quickly among nobles, especially when fed carefully enough. All she needed was a single spark of doubt planted in the right minds before suspicion would begin growing on its own.

As the carriage doors shut and the horses began pulling her away from the palace, Avarine leaned back against the backrest, her smile widening slowly at the thought of Circe’s eventual downfall.

Her conversation with Ophelia was only the beginning.