Preparations for the Gala had taken over the grand hall. Staff moved across the polished floor in coordinated lines, carrying crates of glasswork and bolts of pale fabric, and high above them a suspended work platform held two women adjusting the great light arrays that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

The long tables had been brought in but not yet dressed, and a steward stood at the center of the floor, directing the work from a thick folder of plans.

Valerie had intended to pass straight through. The hall sat directly on the route between the eastern gallery and the imperial council chamber, and cutting through it saved her four corridors.

She made it a third of the way across before she stopped.

"Those are wrong," she said.

The steward turned, lowering her device. "Your Highness?"

"The light arrays. They’re hung for a state function, not a gala." Valerie was already walking toward the center of the hall, her gaze on the ceiling. "At that height the light lands flat, and every guest in this room will look like they’re being interrogated. Lower them by a third and warm them in two settings. People dance better when they look good doing it."

The steward signaled the platform, and the technicians began adjusting the rigging. Valerie had moved on before the first array descended, stopping at the staging tables where rows of tall floral arrangements stood waiting in their crates.

"Who approved white?"

"The protocol office, Your Highness. White is traditional."

"White is what we bury people in. This is a celebration." Valerie lifted one of the stems, turned it once in the light, and set it back. "Mix in gold and deep blue. Keep the white if you must, but as an accent, not a theme."

"Your Highness," Tahlia said from behind her. "The council."

"The council has chairs, Tahlia. They’re very good at waiting in them." Valerie was already studying the seating diagram pinned to the steward’s folder, and she freed it with two fingers. "Whoever drew this has the head table facing away from the dance floor, which means our most important guests will spend the entire evening watching a wall. Turn it. All of it."

By the time she surrendered the diagram and allowed herself to be steered back toward the corridor, the hour Tahlia had been protecting was thoroughly gone.

The imperial council had been seated for some time when the chamber doors opened.

No one at the table looked surprised. The displeasure that moved around the room was quiet and practiced, the kind reserved for an offense that had stopped being new a long time ago because Valerie had made it a habit.

A councilwoman near the far end glared at Valerie. General Rostova, seated partway down the table in her uniform, did not bother to look up at all.

"Forgive me," Valerie said, crossing to her seat without any visible hurry. "The Gala preparations needed me more than I expected."

"We started without you," Athea said.

The session resumed. A trade petition from one of the border queendoms was heard and deferred. A dispute over patrol allocations in Sector Four was settled in under ten minutes.

Then one of the senior councilwomen drew the Gala arrangements from her stack and began taking the council through them for final ratification, reading each item in the same level voice: the security postings, the order of presentations, the catering contracts.

"And the amended invitation provision, as circulated," she said. "The accompanying-guest exception granted to Dr. Sage Stellan."

She said it like it was one settled item in a list of settled items.

Athea looked towards the council member. The motion was small and exact.

"That provision was brought to me directly," she said. "I declined it."

The councilwoman glanced at the screen in front of her. "It was circulated yesterday with majority endorsement, Your Highness. I assumed it would carry your approval."

"It does not." Athea didn’t bother to say more.

"The other members agreed to it, Athea." Valerie’s tone stayed light, as though they were still discussing florals. "I spoke with each of them individually. Everyone found it reasonable."

Athea’s gaze left the councilwoman and moved across the table to Calyra.

Calyra, who had spent the entire session reclined with her chin propped against her knuckles, met the look without any change in her expression.

"Except for Calyra," Valerie added with an eye roll.

"Don’t look at me like that, sister. I sided with you." Calyra’s mouth curved. "Savor it. It’s historic."

Athea turned back to the table. "The council removed the plus-one policy three months ago, and nothing about its reasoning has changed since. The list already extends beyond our borders. The moment one exception is granted, every guest of comparable standing acquires grounds to request the same, and this council will spend the next decad processing petitions instead of preparing an event. The provision was declined for procedural reasons, and those reasons stand."

For a moment it seemed the matter would die there.

Then General Rostova spoke.

"I have no opinion on parties." She had not changed her posture, and her voice carried the unhurried weight of someone who had never once needed to raise it. "I have a strong opinion on the morale of the woman currently running our Vorthak research. Dr. Stellan left a comfortable life in Sector Seven to work for the Crown. The Aegis Division is a war asset, and she is the mind operating it. If one invitation keeps that mind content, it is the cheapest strategic expenditure this council will approve all year."

Nobody answered immediately. Around the table, several of the councilwomen looked from the General to Athea and waited.

"The General’s point is noted." Athea’s voice had gone flat and formal, each word placed with the same precision she used. "My decision stands. The arrangements will be finalized without the provision." She drew the next document toward her. "The next item."

The councilwoman gathered her slate and continued. Valerie rolled her eyes, unhurried and entirely visible to anyone who cared to look, then folded her hands on the table and let the session move on without further argument.

Across the table, Calyra was no longer following the proceedings. She was watching her sister.

Athea did not look back at her.