Eve let herself be pulled toward the dining room, and the nervous energy that had been building for days finally eased.

She had this. She had her mates. Her family. Her friends. Her power.

The Seraphim Court could try to test her. Could try to find loopholes or undermine the reform.

But she’d already won the hard part.

Everything else was just... follow-through.

***

The next morning, they left for the Seraphim Court.

The portal opened directly into the Court’s formal receiving chamber....a massive space of white marble and soaring columns that looked exactly as imposing as Eve remembered.

But this time, when she stepped through with her three mates flanking her and Raphael following behind, she didn’t feel small or overwhelmed.

She felt like exactly what she was.

Their Queen.

***

The Court officials who greeted them bowed deeper than they had before. The whispers that followed their passage through the halls were different....less speculation, more respect.

"They’re scared of you," Damon murmured as they walked.

"Good," Eve said simply.

They were escorted to the same suite they’d occupied during the hearing, a clear message that her status hadn’t changed despite the reform. She was still Seraphim royalty. Still their Queen.

The formal session wasn’t until tomorrow, which meant they had the rest of the day to settle in and prepare.

Eve had barely set her bag down when there was a knock at the door.

Damian opened it to reveal a young Court official.....a nixie, from the look of her, with skin that seemed to shimmer with water.

"Your Majesty," she said, bowing to Eve. "The Faction Leaders request an audience at your convenience. They wish to discuss implementation strategy before tomorrow’s formal session."

Eve exchanged glances with her mates. "Tell them I’ll meet with them in an hour. The formal conference room."

"Of course, Your Majesty." The nixie bowed again and disappeared.

"So it begins," Silas said quietly.

"So it begins," Eve agreed.

But when she looked at her mates....at Damian’s steady confidence, Damon’s sharp grin, Silas’s quiet support....she felt ready.

More than ready.

She’d fought for this. Won this. Changed this world.

Now she just had to make sure it stayed changed.

And she would.

Whatever it took.

***

The meeting with the Faction Leaders went better than expected.

They were actually listening. Actually taking the reform seriously. The Lycan representative had brought detailed proposals for implementation timelines. The witch faction leader had drafted accountability measures. Even the vampire delegation....traditionally the most resistant to change, had come prepared with suggestions for how to integrate smaller supernatural groups into decision-making processes.

Eve sat at the head of the table in the formal conference room, her three mates positioned strategically around her, and felt something close to vindication.

This was real. The change was actually happening.

"The Northern Packs Alliance has already reached out," the Lycan representative, a severe woman named Astrid with silver-streaked hair....said, sliding a document across the table. "They want to coordinate efforts. Ensure consistency across territories."

Eve scanned the proposal. "This is good. Comprehensive. I’ll review it tonight and have a response by tomorrow’s session."

"There’s also the matter of Malachai’s estate," Astrid continued, her tone carefully neutral. "His confinement terms specify limited Court access, but there’s been some question about whether he retains voting rights on legacy legislation."

The name should have sparked something in Eve. Anger, maybe. Bitterness. The sharp edge of old wounds.

Instead, she felt... nothing.

Not numbness. Not avoidance. Just a complete absence of emotional charge.

"He retains no voting rights," Eve said calmly, her voice carrying the authority of absolute certainty. "The Conclave ruling was clear. He’s confined to his estate with no political participation. If there’s confusion about that, we can issue a clarifying statement."

Astrid nodded, making notes. "That would be helpful, Your Majesty."

They moved on to other topics, funding allocations, dispute resolution protocols, the logistics of quarterly Conclave sessions under the new structure. Eve participated fully, her mind sharp and focused.

And through it all, she didn’t think about Malachai once.

The meeting lasted three hours. By the time they adjourned, Eve’s brain felt full and her body was starting to protest sitting in one position for so long.

"You were incredible," Damon said as they walked back to their suite through the Court’s labyrinthine hallways. "Astrid looked like she wanted to take notes on how you handled that vampire delegation’s attempt to insert loopholes."

"They weren’t even subtle about it," Damian added with amusement. "I thought you were going to eviscerate them when they suggested ’legacy exemptions.’"

"I considered it," Eve admitted. "But polite demolition seemed more effective."

Silas was quiet, but his hand found hers and squeezed gently. When Eve looked at him, his expression was thoughtful.

"What?" she asked.

"You didn’t react," Silas said. "When Astrid brought up Malachai. You just... moved past it. Like he was any other administrative detail."

Eve thought about that. "I guess I did."

"That’s growth," Silas said quietly. "A few weeks ago, just hearing his name made you tense up. Now you can discuss his confinement like it’s a routine policy matter."

He was right. When had that changed?

Eve tried to remember the last time she’d actively thought about Malachai. Not just in passing, but really thought about him. Dwelled on what he’d done. Felt the weight of his betrayal and his cruelty and everything he’d represented.

She couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment.

It had just... faded. Like a bruise healing so gradually that you didn’t notice until one day you looked down and it was gone.

"Huh," Eve said softly.

"What?" Damon asked.

"I don’t think I care anymore. About him. About what he did. About any of it." She looked at her mates. "Is that weird? Shouldn’t I still be angry?"

"Why should you be angry?" Damian’s voice was gentle. "He lost. Completely. You took everything from him, his political power, his influence, his freedom. He’s confined to an estate with no ability to affect anything beyond his own property lines. There’s nothing left to be angry about. He’s just... irrelevant now."

"Irrelevant," Eve repeated, testing the word. It felt right. "Yeah. That’s exactly what he is."

They reached their suite and Damian opened the door. Inside, someone had prepared a light meal and lit the fireplace despite the fact that the Court’s climate control made it unnecessary. The gesture felt welcoming. Warm.

Eve kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch with a long exhale.

"I’m supposed to feel something, aren’t I?" she said to the ceiling. "He tried to have me killed multiple times. Kidnapped Maya. Orchestrated attacks. Spent decades consolidating power specifically to prevent someone like me from claiming my birthright. I should be furious. Should want revenge. Should at least feel... something."

"But you don’t," Silas said, settling beside her.

"No. I just feel... tired of thinking about him. Tired of giving him space in my head." Eve turned to look at Silas. "Does that make me a bad person? That I’m just... done?"