Morning light spilled through the high-arched windows of the Valmoré estate, washing the marble floors with pale gold. Seraphina rose earlier than usual, her mind restless with the echoes of last night's encounter. Kael Drakoria's words still lingered in her ears, sharper than any blade Evelyne had ever wielded. You wear silence like armor.
In her past life, she had thought silence her weakness, mistaking it for invisibility. Now she realized it was a shield, one that could buy her time to strike at the right moment.
As her maid tightened the laces of her gown, Seraphina studied her reflection in the mirror. Violet eyes met her own, steady and cold. The court saw vanity in her beauty; she would let them. They saw ambition in her pride; she would let them. Let them underestimate her—it was their most fatal flaw.
The day promised no peace. Rumors from the banquet had already spread through Avalora like wildfire. The villainess who once stood in the shadows was now the subject of every whispered conversation. And at the center of that storm was not Evelyne's angelic charm nor Lucien's polished arrogance, but Seraphina's unexpected alliance with the enemy prince.
Her stepsister burst into her chambers without so much as a knock, silk skirts swishing in self-righteous anger. Evelyne's golden curls caught the sunlight, her face a perfect portrait of innocence—an illusion Seraphina now found almost laughable.
"Sister," Evelyne said with a voice sweet enough to sicken honey, "what exactly were you thinking last night? Allowing that Drakorian prince to touch you as though you were—"
"As though I were his equal?" Seraphina's tone cut across Evelyne's words like a dagger, calm and deliberate.
Evelyne faltered, her painted smile flickering. "You know what they say of him. He's ruthless. Dangerous. Associating with him will ruin you—again."
Seraphina turned slowly from her mirror, her expression unreadable. "You mistake me for the girl I once was, Evelyne. I am not so easily ruined."
Evelyne's eyes narrowed, though her lips held their angelic curve. "Be careful, sister. Avalora does not forgive disobedient women."
"Nor does it forgive betrayal," Seraphina replied, her gaze slicing through Evelyne's mask. "Do remember that."
Evelyne's hands clenched in the folds of her pastel gown, but she quickly composed herself, stepping back with a coy laugh. "I only worry for you. But if you insist on dancing with wolves, don't cry when they bite."
She swept from the room in a flurry of perfume and lace, leaving behind the faint sting of her veiled threats. Seraphina exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Evelyne had no idea that she was already cornered in a game she could not yet see.
By midday, a summons arrived from the palace. The royal seal, pressed in crimson wax, was unmistakable. Seraphina broke it open and read the brief command:
Lady Seraphina Valmoré is hereby invited to an audience with His Highness, Crown Prince Lucien Avalora.
Her fingers tightened around the parchment. Of course. Lucien would not let last night's spectacle pass unchallenged. He had abandoned her once for Evelyne's gilded sweetness; now her rise from the ashes threatened to tarnish his carefully polished image.
The palace gleamed as it always had, a monument of white stone and gilded spires that concealed rot beneath its surface. Seraphina walked its corridors with measured steps, the echoes of her heels steady against the marble.
She was led to the crown prince's private study, a lavish chamber filled with the scent of roses and old parchment. Lucien stood by the window, golden hair catching the sun, emerald eyes gleaming with manufactured warmth. To the world, he was the image of Avalora's future king. To Seraphina, he was the man who had once signed her death sentence with a smile.
"Seraphina," he greeted, his tone carrying the easy charm that had once disarmed her. "You look… radiant. The court is still speaking of you."
She curtsied with flawless grace. "Your Highness."
Lucien studied her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I hear you danced with the Prince of Shadows."
"The invitation was his," she replied evenly.
"And you accepted."
She let silence linger, unyielding.
Lucien's charm cracked, his voice dropping lower. "You do understand what you've done, don't you? Aligning yourself with Drakoria—our sworn enemy—will only bring suspicion upon you."
"Suspicion?" Her lips curved faintly. "Or attention?"
He stiffened, clearly unused to her defiance. In her past life, she would have stumbled over apologies, desperate for his approval. Now, she saw him for what he was: a hollow prince, more concerned with appearances than truth.
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "Seraphina, I don't wish to see you harmed. Evelyne worries for you. Break ties with Kael now, before it is too late. Do this, and… perhaps there is still a place for you at my side."
The words rang like a mockery. A place at my side. Once, that had been her dream. Now it was a chain she would never again wear.
Her violet eyes hardened. "I thank you for your concern, Your Highness. But I no longer seek a place at your side."
Lucien froze, disbelief flashing across his perfect features. "You dare—"
"Yes." Her voice was cold as steel. "I dare."
Before he could respond, the doors opened, and a new presence filled the chamber like a storm breaking through still skies.
Kael Drakoria stepped inside.
Clad in black and crimson, his sharp silhouette cut through the golden light of the room. His storm-gray eyes flicked between Lucien and Seraphina, unreadable yet weighted with command. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Prince Kael. To what do we owe the pleasure of your… intrusion?"
Kael's gaze lingered on Seraphina. "I came to collect what is mine."
Silence fell. Seraphina's heart thudded once, sharp and heavy, but she did not falter. Kael's words were deliberate, his provocation aimed as much at Lucien as at her.
Lucien's composure shattered. "She is not yours."
Kael stepped closer, his voice low, a blade wrapped in silk. "Then perhaps you should have held on to her when you had the chance."
The tension crackled, thick enough to choke the air. Seraphina stood between them, caught not as a pawn but as the center of a battle neither man could disguise. In her first life, this moment would have terrified her. Now, she understood its value.
Two princes—one gilded in lies, the other cloaked in shadows—had set their eyes upon her. And in that clash, she found her power.
"Gentlemen," she said at last, her voice smooth as polished marble. "I believe Avalora's future should not be decided within a single room. Do excuse me."
She turned and swept from the chamber, leaving both men in her wake. For the first time, she felt the threads of fate twist not against her, but in her grasp.
Outside the palace, the autumn air was sharp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves. Seraphina closed her eyes briefly, steadying her breath. This was only the beginning. Evelyne's games, Lucien's hollow promises, Kael's dangerous attention—all of it wove together into a tapestry of war and desire.
She opened her eyes, her violet gaze cold and resolute. "This time," she whispered, "the story will not end with my death."