"They want you in the court next month," Charlotte said, setting a teacup down.
Leah did not look up from the paper she was folding. "They think I'm a pawn," she said.
Charlotte's fingertips smudged the edge of the selection list and she pushed it toward Leah. "They plan the order. They decide who travels when. They name faces for marriage and dismissals. This is leverage."
Dawson leaned back in his chair. He watched Leah, the same slow appraisal he used on parade grounds. "You won't go without a plan," he said.
Leah closed the paper into a neat square and set it on the table. "I won't be a stunt for gossip," she said. "If I lose, they strip away more than status."
Dawson's response cut clear. "Then win so they take nothing else."
Charlotte did not move. "We knew this day could come. The Emperor rewards visible houses now. The Inner Court will pick favorites. They will test us to see whether we fracture."
Leah finally looked at the list. Names were calligraphed in black ink, ranks and comments in red. It was not a summons from mercy. It was an invitation with teeth—an order dressed as a favor.
"How much do they know about the Marches now?" Leah asked.
"Enough to want control," Charlotte said. "Not enough to break us. Not yet."
"Not yet," Leah echoed. The words were a promise she made to herself, not to them.
Charlotte tapped the
