The sun had barely risen when Serenya stirred from her sleep. Her room was bathed in soft gold light, filtered through velvet curtains. For a second, she forgot where she was—until her eyes caught the faint shimmer of the dagger tattoo at her waist. The mission. The prince. The lies wrapped in silk.
She stretched, yawning slightly before swinging her legs out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, grounding her to the reality ahead.
*"If I'm going to seduce him,"* she muttered, walking to the tall mirror beside her wardrobe, *"then I must look the part."*
She took her time choosing her dress — deep crimson, soft and flowing, hugging her curves like a lover's promise. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders like fire, and she added just a touch of magic to her perfume — enough to enchant, not enough to reveal. Selene ring sat on her finger, pulsing with its quiet warning.
Just as she finished adjusting the laces of her gown, a soft knock landed on her door.
"Miss Serenya," came a calm voice. "His Highness awaits you for your first training session."
With one last look at her reflection — part seductress, part spy — she nodded to herself and stepped out.
The path to the training ground was quiet, winding through the inner courtyard of the palace. The guards barely looked at her, but she could feel their eyes once she passed — everyone curious about the witch sent to "train" the feared prince.
The training hall loomed like a temple of shadows. Stone, torches, and echoes. And there he was — Prince Vraevyn — standing in the center of the room as though he had been carved from the same darkness that filled the air.
His red eyes flicked to her, cold and unreadable. His arms were folded. His stance relaxed. But his aura — it whispered power and danger.
"You're late," he said.
"I was told I looked better with effort," she replied, voice sweet but sharp. "I assume you'd appreciate that."
His lips curved slightly — not quite a smile, but something like amusement.
"We're not here for games, witch."
She stepped closer. "I don't play games, Your Highness. I win them."
The air thickened between them — magic and tension swirling. Serenya could feel her heart race, but she didn't let it show. This was step one. To draw him in. To make him want more.
Prince Vraevyn turned away from her and summoned a crackle of dark energy into his hand.
"Then let's begin," he said. "If you're going to teach me anything… impress me."
She stood firm, eyes trailing the cold, dangerous aura that clung to him like smoke.
Then she stepped forward, voice steady and calm.
"Our first lesson," she said, her lips curling slightly, "will be… control."