The first sign Serina noticed came with the wrong tea.
Not hers.
Mine.
"Elara," she said sweetly over breakfast. "You haven't touched your chamomile. Isn't that your favorite?"
I lifted my cup. Let the scent linger near my lips.
"Not anymore," I said. "Tastes change."
So do alliances.
---
Later that day, she paused in the corridor outside the drawing room, where Baron Hale and I had once exchanged only pleasantries.
Now, he greeted me with a smile.
"Lady Elara. You look radiant today."
"And you, Baron. Still tending roses, or have you taken to politics now?"
He chuckled as he bowed.
Serina's hands tightened around her fan.
---
"Tessa," she hissed to my maid as we passed. "Who is she visiting? Where has she been going?"
Tessa curtsied. "My lady, I—"
"Never mind. I'll find out myself."
Good.
Let her try.
---
Meanwhile, Auren returned to court.
Not with ceremony this time.
But with laughter.
The kind that slid into conversations uninvited and left people charmed or confused—never sure which.
"Lady Elara," he drawled, stepping into the afternoon sun like it bowed to him. "Rumor says you've been plotting."
"Rumor says many things."
"They say you've turned Baron Hale."
"They say you're due to wed Serina."
"Touché," he said, and offered his arm. "Walk with me."
---
I took it. Because it was what he expected.
Because his arm meant nothing to me.
But I smiled like it did.
---
"You've changed," he said. "More thorns than I remember."
"You never did like holding roses properly."
"True. I prefer lilies."
"They die quickly."
He laughed.
But there was something sharper behind his eyes now.
A question he didn't yet know how to ask.
"Is this a warning, Elara?"
"No," I said, voice velvet. "It's a reminder."
"Of what?"
I met his gaze.
"That you were the one who let me fall."
And Auren—beautiful, reckless, tragic Auren—paused.
His smile didn't fade, but it faltered.
"And yet," he said, voice low, "here we are again. You, me, and all these ghosts we don't speak of."
---
Later, as I sat by the garden balcony, Cladus appeared beside me without a sound.
I didn't flinch anymore.
"He still thinks you belong to him," he said.
"They all do."
Cladus didn't look at me, but his voice dropped ever so slightly.
"He doesn't see what you've become."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
That silenced me.
---
A moment passed.
He turned his head, just enough for the moonlight to catch the clean line of his jaw.
"My house once served in the west," he said quietly. "Borderlands, before the war broke it apart."
"You've never spoken of your family."
"There's little worth speaking of."
"Is that so?"
He said nothing.
But his gaze turned inward, like a door opened just a crack—then shut again.
Before I could press further, he bowed.
"The court grows darker, my lady. Shall I remain by your door tonight?"
"No," I said, more softly than I meant. "But thank you."
He hesitated, just a moment.
Then left without another word.
---
Behind me, the candlelight flickered.
And somewhere across the palace, Serina whispered to a court lady:
"She's hiding something."
She was right.
But it wasn't what she thought.