The quietest voice in every room she had ever entered.

The one who understood, better than any of them, a truth that the powerful forget at their peril and the overlooked know in their bones: that the quietest voices are very often the ones holding the single piece of truth that can shatter a kingdom.

Chloe had whispered my death into my ear, certain I could not hear her.

She had been so busy speaking over the powerful, dying man in the bed that she had never once thought to lower her voice for the invisible woman changing the flowers.

That was her mistake.