The acrid sting of smoke clung to Sera's skin as she ran through the palace's lower corridors, the distant roar of flames and shouting growing louder with every step. Dawn's pale light filtered through the high windows, painting the bloodstained mosaics in shades of gold and crimson.
She was running out of time.
Her thighs still ached from where Varian had pinned her to the bed, the ghost of his touch branding her even now. The dagger he'd left in her belt—a test or a taunt?—bounced against her hip as she skidded around a corner.
The western gate was chaos incarnate.
Rebels—her people—had broken through the first barricade. Torches cast frantic shadows against the soot-streaked walls, illuminating faces she recognized: the blacksmith's son, his apron still tied around his waist; a kitchen maid clutching a butcher's cleaver; her old fencing instructor, his once-proud posture now bent with age and rage.
Then she saw him.
Kaelan.
Her betrothed. The man she'd watched fall beneath a dozen swords during the invasion. The man she'd mourned for three endless nights in her cell.
Alive.
And leading the attack.
---
"Kaelan?" Her voice barely carried over the din.
He turned, and the coldness in his eyes struck her like a physical blow. No relief. No joy. Only calculation.
"Seraphina." His sword dripped with imperial blood. "Get out of the way."
The words landed like a slap. This wasn't a rescue.
"You're... alive." She took a step forward, her hand outstretched. "We thought—"
"We?" Kaelan's laugh was bitter. He gestured to the rebels—her people—who watched with wary eyes. "Did you weep for me while warming the Tyrant's bed?"
The accusation hung in the air like smoke. Behind her, the palace guards tensed, their hands on their swords.
Sera's fingers found the dagger at her belt. "I don't think you understand. I'm trying to save you—"
"By fucking our enemy?" A muscle jumped in Kaelan's jaw. "Your cousin warned us you'd side with him."
Elric. The betrayal cut deeper than any blade.
Kaelan raised his sword. "Last chance, Sera. Step aside."
Metal sang as she drew the dagger. "Or what?"
The rebels surged forward—
A crossbow bolt thunked into the ground at Kaelan's feet.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Varian emerged from the smoke like a wraith, his black armor streaked with ash, his greatsword resting casually on one shoulder. The rebels recoiled as if the devil himself had appeared.
"Kill him," Varian said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "and I spare the city." His gaze locked onto Sera's. "Hesitate... and I burn it all."
Kaelan spat at Varian's feet. "She'd never—"
Varian moved faster than thought, grabbing Sera from behind, his armored chest pressing against her back. His free hand slid up her arm, guiding her dagger toward Kaelan's heart.
"Choose," he breathed against her ear.
Kaelan's eyes widened. "Sera—"
The dagger flashed.
Blood bloomed across Kaelan's shoulder—not fatal, but a message.He staggered back, shock and betrayal warring on his face.
Varian's laugh vibrated through her. "Good girl."
---
THE AFTERMATH
That night, as Sera scrubbed Kaelan's blood from her hands in the bath chamber, a servant girl lingered by the door.
"Your Highness..." The girl's voice was barely a whisper. "They say the Emperor's curse only a Valtaris can break."
Sera froze. "What curse?"
But the girl was already gone, leaving only a single word hanging in the steam:
"Run."