Seraphina sat at her vanity, staring at her own reflection—young, unscarred, yet carrying the eyes of a woman who had been burned alive.
She had spent the entire night awake, sorting through memories like sharpened blades.
Who betrayed her first?
Who lied with a kiss?
Who would need to fall… and who could still be used?
A soft knock on her door snapped her thoughts.
"Princess Seraphina? It's Lady Brielle. May I enter?"
Brielle. Her handmaid. Loyal. Sweet.
Dead—stabbed during the palace purge because she refused to betray her queen.
Seraphina's chest tightened.
"Enter," she said, voice soft but firm.
The door opened and Brielle stepped in, bowing. "You have lessons today, Your Grace. Shall I prepare your dress?"
Seraphina turned slowly. "What date is it, Brielle?"
"Um… It's the fifth of Evermere, my lady."
Evermere. Five days before her father's sudden death—the day the poison began its work. The beginning of the end.
So it starts here.
"No need for the pink dress," Seraphina said, standing. "Bring me the black one."
Brielle blinked. "The mourning one?"
Seraphina smiled coldly. "Yes. It suits the day."
---
Later, in the royal dining hall, nobles whispered behind napkins as Seraphina entered dressed in black, her hair braided in a warrior's twist, no longer the gentle, girlish waves expected of her.
"Is she mad?" one whispered.
"She looks like a ghost," another murmured.
She ignored them.
She only watched him—Crown Prince Kael Thornhart, her fiancé. The man who would marry her, use her, and let her die.
He smiled at her as she sat. "Seraphina. You look… intense this morning."
She tilted her head. "And you look like a snake wearing velvet."
The hall fell silent.
Kael's smile faltered. "Excuse me?"
She simply raised her goblet. "To truth," she said, staring him down. "It will be such a rare thing at this table soon."
He laughed nervously. "You're in quite the mood today."
"I'm just waking up," she said, sipping. "For the first time."