Berethra Catspite

Berethra Catspite was cast out of one court and answered by making every court feel drafty. Her listeners sit where servants cough, lovers boast, surgeons mutter, guards grow tired, and clerks believe ink cannot betray them. Ordran has uses for her because a disciplined realm fears unmeasured private rooms almost as much as broken roads. The darker courts understand her more intimately: power is often decided before the council doors open, in bedchambers, kitchens, roof shadows, and the small disgraces powerful people misplace. Berethra smells of rain on tiles, spiced wine gone sour, cat fur, lamp smoke, and paper hidden against skin. She does not need a throne. She needs only enough truths that every throne wonders which leg she has already sawn through.