Dawn had learned to arrive in strips now: first the gull-light over the river, then the slow wash of gold across the palace domes, then the ordered clatter of men who would shape the day. After nights spent mapping conspiracies and hours spent stalling fate, Mehrawan moved like a kingdom waking into a plan — not by chance but by design. The ledger was no longer merely paper. It was a current, a rumor, a lever that tugged at loyalties and tides. Raidant and Iravika had fashioned two blades from that current: one of steel on water, and one of words in the courts of men.