Chapter 60

It started with a single correction. One sharp, clean cut in the middle of council discussion.

“Amelia, I believe you meant the quarterly projection for Crescent territory,” Elsa said brightly, her voice slicing through the room like polished glass. “Not the annual.”

The room went still.

I looked up from my notes. I hadn’t misspoken. The projection was annual, but it didn’t matter. Everyone was already looking at me like I’d slipped.

“It is the annual,” I replied, calmly. “We adjusted scope last quarter.”

Elsa smiled wider. “Oh, my mistake. I suppose I’m just a little behind on the latest agenda.” She laughed lightly. “I try to keep up, but I’m mostly here for the public-facing pieces, you know. The human element.”

Laughter rippled. Soft, awkward, but it landed. My cheeks flamed. I forced my mouth into a neutral line.

Richard cleared his throat. “Let’s stay focused.”

But it was too late. The energy in the room had shifted. They were watching me now, weighing me. Judging my posture, my tone, my restraint. I felt myself shrink under the weight of it, even as I forced my spine straight.

And Elsa’s smile didn’t flicker.

She didn’t actually weigh in on the political points. Not directly. She made a point of hovering at the edges of the council table, leaning in during quiet moments to offer commentary, not on substance, but on perception. She’d murmur about how a decision might come across on the livestream, or whether the phrasing of a policy summary was "too harsh for the softer audiences."

She once interrupted a logistics discussion to ask if the lighting in the council room could be adjusted to feel "more heritage-forward." When talk of a new housing initiative came up, she suggested Jenny be the one to announce it on camera, dressed in something "structured but approachable, maybe with forest tones to underscore her connection to the land."

Elsa’s entire presence in the meetings was calibrated not to govern, but to manage the myth of governance. Whether a proposal would play well with the press, or confuse the carefully curated image of family unity the House had begun to sell, those were her concerns, and she voiced them often.

“Can we make sure I’m seated beside Jenny during that announcement?” she said at one point. “The press has really been loving the ‘mother-daughter healing’ storyline.”

And later, while the council debated restructuring the northern patrol units, she sighed and flipped idly through a packet of press cuttings. “Could we shift the backdrop for the security update livestream? The last one made the House look sterile. It should feel warm. Family-driven.”

No one told her to stop. No one told her she wasn’t part of this. And the more she did it, the more it worked.

She made herself indispensable, not in substance, but in perception.

After the meeting adjourned, I didn’t make it halfway down the corridor before Elsa’s voice called out.

“Amelia, wait. Just a second.”

I turned slowly.

“You handled that little confusion about the projections very gracefully,” she said, syrupy and bright. “Some people might’ve lost their cool. But you? You’ve got such composure.”

“I wasn’t confused,” I said again, flat.

She tilted her head, faux-thoughtful. “Oh, I know. But appearances matter, don’t they? Even when you’re right, it’s the impression that sticks.”

“You mean, when you make it stick.”

She let out a laugh, light and effortless. “I’m only here to help. There’s no need to be defensive.”

Her smile lingered just a little too long before she walked away.

That evening, over dinner, I tried to keep my head down. But even in the staff lounge, people were buzzing. One of the junior liaisons looked up from her salad and whispered to a colleague, “She doesn’t seem stable lately.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks again.

Later that afternoon, I passed two guards chatting by the main entrance to the barracks. I wouldn’t have paid attention if I hadn’t caught Richard’s name.

“...so do you think it’s, like, real?” one of them asked. “With her and the Alpha?”

“Come on,” the other said, smirking. “She used to live here. Bet she still knows all the secret hallways.”

“Yeah, but what about that intern girl?”

“The one who was in his room?” The first guy scoffed.

“You think she could compete with Elsa? Please. Elsa's probably already back in his bed, if she ever really left it. You don’t look at someone like that in public unless something’s going on in private.”

I kept walking. My nails dug crescents into my palms.

And then I heard her voice behind me, that smooth laugh again.

“Just colleagues,” Elsa said cheerfully, clearly catching the tail end of their conversation. “For now.”

They laughed like hyenas.

I didn’t stop walking. But I burned all the way down the hall.

In the next meeting, I sat two seats away from Richard, and I could see the tension in his shoulders every time she leaned in. She placed a hand on the back of his chair while commenting on the family charity initiative, her words soft and photogenic.

“Jenny and I will host the next community drive, I think. That way the messaging stays tight. She represents the future, I represent... longevity. It's a clean visual.”

Richard said nothing.

When I brought up a new security memo, she perked up. “Amelia, do you mind if I have someone draft a public-facing summary of that? Something that connects it to our values. Protecting the home, the family. People relate to that better.”

I gave her a tight nod. “Just make sure it’s accurate.”

She beamed. “Always.”

After the meeting, I didn’t go home. I walked the long way through the House grounds, looping around until my feet hurt and my chest felt hollow.

When I finally returned upstairs, I paused by the terrace. From where I stood, it looked staged. Elsa and Jenny seated in casual perfection. Adam leaning toward them, laughing at something Elsa said. She touched his arm. Her nails gleamed in the sunlight.

I didn’t know what she was saying. But I knew exactly what she was doing.

Later, I passed her in the hallway. She was mid-conversation with two junior aides.

“Adam’s just been such a help,” she said brightly. “So thoughtful, he's really a natural at this. I told Jenny she should keep him close.”

Then she saw me.

“Amelia,” she said, with a nod that almost passed for warm. “I was just saying how lovely it is when people grow into their potential. Don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer.

“I know it’s hard,” she continued, walking slowly as if waiting for me to fall into step beside her. “All these changes. But you’re adapting. That counts for something.”

“Are you getting at something specific, or just being friendly?”

She shrugged. “No. Just being friendly. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” I asked.

Her smile didn’t waver. “You’ll catch up eventually. Or you won’t.”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. I turned and left.

But the way her smile lingered behind me told me I’d already lost whatever game she was playing.