#Chapter 139: Steady Hands

Amelia The clothes felt wrong. Not in the way they hung or fit, but in the way they dulled everything. The textures were too flat. The fabrics too quiet. I missed the mess of the nest, the sweat and skin and tangle of sheets that made everything feel vivid. Now the world had too much space in it, and I couldn’t stop noticing it. My senses were turned up too high, like I’d come back from somewhere louder than this. The council chamber doors creaked open. My heels clicked twice before the carpet swallowed the sound. I walked in alone. They were all watching me. Richard sat at the head of the long table, stone-faced. But when our eyes met, something flickered. He didn’t smile. Didn’t shift. But I caught the faint tightening in his jaw, the breath he held just a second too long. He hadn’t walked me in. That had been my choice. I was here to speak for myself. So I did. They asked every question they thought I might flinch at. Protocol. Propriety. Whether my presence had compro