KAEL'S POV
I stared at the anonymous message on my phone for the third time that night, my hands trembling like I was seventeen again and holding my first rifle.
Princess Seraphina is alive. And she's closer than you think.
The words blurred as I read them again. And again.
Someone was playing a sick game. Had to be. Sera was dead. I'd killed her myself. Felt the rifle kick against my shoulder. Watched her fall backward into that damned ravine. Searched that godforsaken river for three days until Casimir's men dragged me away, still screaming her name.
Dead. She had to be dead.
Because if she wasn't
I couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't face what it would mean. That I'd spent five years drowning in guilt for a murder I hadn't quite committed. That somewhere in the world, she'd been alive and suffering while I'd been here, serving the men who'd destroyed her.
My apartment was dark except for the lamp on my desk. I preferred it that way. Darkness hid the empty bottles, the unwashed dishes, the general decay of a man who'd stopped caring whether he lived or died.
I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. The one I never opened when I was sober.
Inside lay a velvet-lined box. My nightly ritual. My punishment. My penance for loving duty more than her.
I opened it slowly, like approaching a bomb that might detonate.
Inside: a locket on a delicate silver chain. Sera's locket. The one she'd been wearing when they arrested her. The one Casimir had given me afterward with a smile that said he knew exactly what torture it would be for me to keep it.
I opened it with fingers that still knew the mechanism by heart.
Her portrait stared back at me. Miniature, painted when she was seventeen. She was laughing in the image, caught mid-joy by an artist who'd somehow captured the essence of who she'd been. Alive. Vibrant. Full of hope and dreams and plans for making the kingdom better.
I stared at her face, but tonight something was different. Wrong.
I kept seeing other eyes overlaying hers. Brown eyes that had looked at me across the ballroom with an intensity that burned. Elena Frost's eyes.
Elena Frost, who moved like a predator.
Elena Frost, who smelled like violets.
Elena Frost, who'd asked me if loyalty felt heavy a question that cut straight to the heart of my greatest shame.
You're losing your mind, I muttered to the empty room.
But then I remembered the perfume. Violets. The exact scent Sera had always worn. The scent I'd buried my face in countless times. The scent that still haunted my dreams, that made me freeze in the market when I caught a whiff of it on a passing stranger.
No. Coincidence. Thousands of women wore violet perfume.
Except... they didn't. Not that specific blend. Sera's mother had it specially made by a perfumer in the capital. Custom scent, unique formulation. After the coup, the perfumer had shut down his shop and disappeared.
So where would Elena Frost have gotten it?
A memory slammed into me with the force of a physical blow
Seventeen-year-old Sera, laughing as I taught her to fight in the palace training grounds. We'd been alone, early morning before anyone else was awake. She'd insisted on learning self-defense, said a future queen needed to know how to protect herself.
She'd just knocked me flat on my back with a move I'd taught her five minutes earlier. She stood over me triumphant, her blonde hair coming loose from its braid, violet eyes bright with mischief and pride.
You're going easy on me, Commander, she teased, offering her hand to help me up.
I would never, Your Highness.
Liar. She'd pulled me up, and for one perfect moment, we'd stood too close, her breath warm on my face, her hand still in mine. You're afraid of hurting me.
I'm afraid of disappointing you, I'd said quietly, meaning it in more ways than one. Afraid of disappointing her as a teacher. As a guard. As the man who was falling hopelessly in love with her despite knowing it was forbidden.
She'd smiled then, soft and genuine. You could never disappoint me, Kael. Never.
Three years later, I'd put a bullet in her. Proved her wrong in the worst possible way.
I slammed the locket closed, shoving it back in the drawer. Slammed the drawer shut hard enough to make my desk lamp jump.
I needed sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day. The Council meeting. Elena Frost's first official presentation. Duke Casimir watching everything with those calculating eyes that never missed a detail.
Tomorrow I'd have to see her again. Elena. Sera. Whoever she was.
I'd have to stand close to her and pretend my heart wasn't hammering. Pretend I wasn't searching her face for traces of the girl I'd loved. Pretend that perfume wasn't slowly destroying my carefully constructed walls.
I lay down on my bed still fully clothed didn't see the point in changing when I'd just have to dress again in a few hours.
But sleep never came.
Instead, I lay awake, watching shadows move across my ceiling, hearing Sera's voice whisper in the dark: You could never disappoint me.
Except I had. Fatally. Irrevocably. In ways that couldn't be forgiven or undone.
And if that message was right, if she was somehow alive, then she'd spent five years knowing I'd shot her. Five years hating me. Five years planning... what? Revenge? Justice? Destruction?
I wouldn't blame her. If our positions were reversed, I'd want revenge too.
The ceiling didn't have answers. It never did.
Around four in the morning, I gave up on sleep entirely. Dressed in my formal uniform. Made coffee that tasted like ash. Checked my weapons with mechanical precision.
Everything normal. Everything routine.
Except nothing would ever be normal again.
Because whether that message was true or a cruel hoax, the damage was done. The possibility had been planted in my mind like a seed that would grow into obsession.
Sera might be alive.
And if she was alive, she was here. Close. Within reach.
Close enough to destroy me.
The Royal Council met at dawn. I stood at attention against the wall, scanning for threats out of habit. The Council chamber was unchanged same long table, same high windows, same portraits of dead kings judging us from the walls.
Duke Casimir sat at the head of the table, radiating power like a dark star pulling everything into his orbit. He looked pleased with himself this morning. Satisfied. Like a man who'd just won a particularly difficult chess match.
That should have been my first warning.
Gentlemen, Casimir announced, his voice carrying easily across the chamber. I've hired a political consultant to help us modernize. She comes highly recommended from foreign courts.
The Council members whispered to each other like gossiping old women. Some looked curious. Others suspicious. Lord Bertram's face was already reddening always hated the idea of women in positions of power.
A woman? Lord Bertram scoffed right on cue. What could a woman possibly teach us about running a kingdom?
Casimir's smile turned predatory. You're about to find out.
He gestured to the doors.
They opened.
Elena Frost walked in, and every conversation stopped.
She moved like a predator confident, controlled, lethal. Each step precisely placed. Her eyes swept the room, cataloging every face with an efficiency that reminded me of military intelligence officers I'd worked with. Tactical assessment. Threat evaluation.
Those eyes.
Even with the brown contacts, there was something in the way she looked at people. Something sharp and observant and utterly ruthless.
When her gaze landed on me, something flickered across her expression. Too fast to read. But it felt like recognition. Like hatred. Like longing.
It felt like Sera looking at me with five years of betrayal in her eyes.
Gentlemen, she said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. I'm Elena Frost. I specialize in fixing broken systems.
She let that hang for a moment. Let them digest it. Let them wonder what she meant.
And your kingdom is very, very broken.
Stunned silence crashed through the chamber like a wave.
Then Lord Bertram laughed, his face turning even redder. How dare you
Your northern border has been unguarded for three months, Elena interrupted without breaking eye contact. Her voice was calm, factual, devastating. Your trade agreements are bleeding money at a rate of approximately fifty thousand gold crowns per month. Your people are starving while you feast on delicacies imported from kingdoms that are actively plotting against you. And your enemies are circling like wolves, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
She pulled out a folder prepared, professional and dropped it on the table with a decisive thud that echoed in the silence.
I've spent one week studying your kingdom. These are my findings. Read them. Or don't. But everything I just said is documented truth.
I watched, stunned.
She was either brilliant or suicidal. Possibly both.
Definitely familiar.
That directness. That refusal to soften unpleasant truths. That absolute confidence in her own assessment.
Sera used to debate the Council like that. Used to stand her ground against men three times her age and refuse to back down when she knew she was right.
Duke Casimir smiled like a shark scenting blood. Miss Frost, where exactly did you train?
Around. One word. Dismissive. Refusing to be intimidated.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Casimir's eyes narrowed, testing her. Looking for weakness. Looking for the crack in her armor that he could exploit.
Who were your previous clients?
Elena rattled off name's foreign kings, military commanders, powerful merchants. I recognized some of them. Her references were impressive. Too impressive for someone who'd appeared out of nowhere.
Nobody had that perfect a background. Not in my experience.
Everyone had failures. Embarrassments. Things they wanted to hide.
Elena Frost's history was flawless. Which made it completely unbelievable.
Casimir asked three more questions, each designed to trip her up. She answered them all with the same calm confidence. Never hesitated. Never fumbled. Like she'd prepared for exactly these questions.
Finally, Casimir leaned back in his chair. Miss Frost will need full palace access. Commander Draven, you'll serve as her military liaison. Show her everything she needs to see.
My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth grind.
No. Absolutely not.
Spending time with this woman whoever she was would be torture. The perfume alone was enough to slowly destroy my sanity. Add in the possibility that she might be Sera, and I'd be lucky to survive the week with my mind intact.
But I couldn't refuse without looking suspicious. Couldn't question Casimir's orders without raising questions about why I was resistant.
Yes, Your Grace, I forced out.
After the meeting, Princess Lyanna approached Elena like an eager puppy seeking approval. The queen had changed in five years. Become smaller somehow, despite wearing a crown. Like the weight of it was crushing her slowly.
Miss Frost, I'd love to get to know you better. Perhaps tea tomorrow?
Elena's smile looked forced, painted on. Like smiling caused her physical pain.
I'd be honored, Your Majesty.
The words were correct. Professional. But I caught something underneath. A tremor of emotion. Quickly suppressed.
Lyanna walked away, and I saw Elena's mask slip for just a second. Saw pain flash across her face. Saw her hand move unconsciously to her chest, pressing over her heart like it hurt.
That gesture.
I'd seen it before. On Sera, when she'd learned about her father's death. When grief was so overwhelming that it manifested as physical pain.
Commander, Casimir's voice cut through my thoughts. Show Miss Frost to her office. Make sure she has everything she needs. Everything.
It wasn't a request.
It was a test. Casimir suspected something. Why else assign me specifically as her liaison?
Elena and I walked through the palace in tense silence.
She didn't look around like a normal visitor would. Didn't gawk at the paintings or admire the architecture or ask questions about the palace history.
She walked like she knew these halls. Like she'd traveled them a thousand times before. Her feet knew exactly where to go without conscious thought.
We turned down the corridor toward the military wing, and she moved confidently, no hesitation. Even though I hadn't told her where we were going.
Impossible.
Unless she already knew the palace layout. Unless she'd lived here once.
You don't trust me, she said suddenly.
I kept my voice neutral. I don't trust anyone.
Wise policy. She glanced at me, and I caught a flash of something raw in her eyes. In a palace built on lies, trust is a fatal weakness.
The way she said It so certain, so bitter, so personal made me wonder what she'd survived. What scars she carried beneath that perfect facade?
We reached her office. I opened the door. You'll work here. If you need anything
I won't. She walked past me.
As she moved, her sleeve rode up.
I saw the scar.
Thin. Circular. Exactly the width of an execution shackle. The metal left a distinctive mark I'd seen it hundreds of times on prisoners. The way the skin puckered slightly. The discoloration. The precise diameter.
My blood turned to ice. Time stopped.
I'd seen scars like that before. On prisoners sentenced to death. On people who'd stood where Elena stood now on the edge of execution.
On Sera's wrists, five years ago, when they'd chained her to that platform.
The memory hit me like a physical blow helping the guards shackle her, my hands shaking so badly I could barely work the locks. Sera looking at me with betrayal in her eyes. You're really going to do this? The shackles clicking closed. The mark they left on her delicate skin.
Elena caught me staring. She pulled her sleeve down quickly. Too quickly.
Something wrong, Commander? Her voice was casual, but her eyes were hard as diamonds. Defensive.
No. Nothing. The lie tasted like ash.
She stepped into her office and closed the door in my face with a decisive click.
I stood there, heart pounding, world tilting on its axis.
That scar. The perfume. The way she moved. The anonymous message.
Princess Seraphina is alive. And she's closer than you think.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and searched for Elena Frost's background file.
Education: Foreign universities. Multiple degrees. Employment: Impressive client list spanning multiple kingdoms. References: All verified and glowing.
Everything was perfect. Too perfect.
Like a story crafted by someone who knew how to disappear. How to build a new identity from nothing. How to become someone else entirely.
I searched deeper, accessing classified military databases. Cross-referenced her photo with facial recognition software, running it against every woman in our records.
And then I saw it.
A match.
Bone structure: 94% match to Princess Seraphina Valorian.
The phone slipped from my hands and clattered to the marble floor.
The sound echoed in the empty corridor like a gunshot.
She was alive.
Sera was alive.
And she'd come back wearing a stranger's face, carrying secrets and vengeance in equal measure.
The question was: did she come back for justice?
Or for revenge?
And more terrifying: what would she do when she realized I knew?