Seraphina's POV
They came for me at dawn.
I hadn't slept. How could I, when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Celeste's triumphant smile? Heard Adrian's cold voice calling me a traitor?
The dungeon guard unlocked my cell with a rusty screech that made my teeth hurt. Trial's starting. King's orders.
Already? My voice came out hoarse. I haven't even seen a lawyer.
He laughed. Not kindly. Traitors don't get lawyers, girl.
Two more guards grabbed my arms and hauled me up narrow stone stairs. My legs barely worked after a night on cold dungeon floor. They half-dragged me through castle hallways I'd walked a thousand times as Adrian's fiancée.
Everyone stared. Servants pressed against walls to avoid me. A kitchen maid I'd given extra coins to last month spat at my feet.
The throne room doors swung open.
The trial had already started.
King Thornhart sat on his massive throne, looking bored. Like this was an annoying task interrupting his breakfast. The entire royal court packed the room—nobles in their finest clothes, whispering behind gloved hands.
They'd dressed for a show.
Guards shoved me forward. I stumbled but caught myself before I fell. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
Seraphina Ashford, the court announcer's voice boomed. You stand accused of high treason, conspiracy against the Crown, and plotting with enemies of the Five Kingdoms. How do you plead?
Not guilty. I lifted my chin. Every charge is a lie.
The King waved his hand dismissively. Present the evidence.
Adrian stood from his seat beside the throne. He looked perfect—clean, rested, every bit the noble prince. While I stood here in yesterday's ruined gown, unwashed, with my hair tangled.
He pulled out a stack of letters. Your Majesty, these documents prove Lady Seraphina has been meeting secretly with Wildlands rebels for six months.
Those aren't mine! I shouted.
The handwriting matches yours perfectly. Adrian's voice stayed calm. Reasonable. Like he was stating simple facts. Our best scholars confirmed it.
He read from the first letter. My stomach turned as I heard words I'd never written—plans to weaken the Thornwall, promises to share kingdom secrets, agreements to help the Wildlands invade.
I never wrote those, I said desperately. Someone forged them. Please, examine them closer—
We have. The King sounded annoyed. Your own sister confirmed your suspicious behavior.
My head whipped toward the crowd. Celeste sat in the front row, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. She wore pale blue—the color of mourning and innocence.
Celeste, tell them the truth, I begged.
She stood slowly, like it pained her. I wish I could, Sera. Her voice broke perfectly. I saw you sneaking out at midnight. Reading forbidden books about the Wildlands. When I asked what you were doing, you said it was better if I didn't know.
Because I was researching for Adrian! I turned to him. You asked me to study the old Thornwall Treaty. Remember? You said you wanted to understand the Wildlands better before we ruled together.
Adrian's expression didn't change. I asked you to read approved historical texts. Not to conspire with our enemies.
He was good. So good that for a moment, I almost doubted my own memory.
Anyone else wish to speak for the accused? the King asked.
Silence.
I searched the crowd for anyone, my father's friends, nobles I'd helped, servants I'd been kind to.
They all looked away.
Then my father stood. Hope fluttered stupidly in my chest.
Your Majesty, Duke Ashford's voice carried across the room. I must apologize to the Crown for raising such a disgraceful daughter.
The hope died.
I gave her everything, he continued. Education, opportunities, a chance to marry the Crown Prince himself. And this is how she repays my generosity? By plotting against the very kingdom that elevated our family?
His performance was flawless. The crowd murmured approval.
She is a stain on the Ashford name, Father declared. I formally disown her. Whatever punishment Your Majesty deems fit, she deserves.
I stopped trying to defend myself. What was the point? They'd already decided.
The King shifted on his throne. Does the accused have anything to say before I pronounce sentence?
I could beg. Plead for mercy. Maybe if I cried and apologized for crimes I didn't commit, he'd be lenient.
But looking at Adrian's cold eyes, at Celeste's fake tears, at my father's theatrical disgust, something hardened inside me.
I'm innocent, I said clearly. And everyone in this room knows it.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. You didn't challenge a king's judgment.
But the truth doesn't matter here, does it? I continued. This trial is just theater. You decided I was guilty before I ever walked through those doors.
The King's eyes narrowed. Careful, girl.
Why? Anger made me reckless. What else can you do to me? I've already lost everything.
Not quite everything, the King said coldly. You still have your life.
He stood, and the room fell silent.
Seraphina Ashford, you are stripped of your title, your family name, and all rights as a citizen of the Five Kingdoms. His voice boomed. You are sentenced to exile beyond the Thornwall.
The crowd erupted in shocked whispers. Exile beyond the Thornwall was a death sentence. Everyone knew that. The Wildlands killed anyone who crossed the border. No one had survived it in three hundred years.
Merciful, someone whispered.
Too kind for a traitor, another voice argued.
The King sat back down. Take her away. At dawn tomorrow, throw her beyond the border. Let the Wildlands have her.
Guards seized my arms. As they dragged me toward the doors, I memorized every face. Adrian, looking satisfied. Celeste, barely hiding her smile. My father, already turning away like I'd stopped existing.
In a side hallway, away from the crowd, the guards stopped. The lead guard yanked my mother's necklace from my throat—the last piece of jewelry I had left.
No! I grabbed for it.
He backhanded me. Pain exploded across my cheek. Noble clothes and jewels stay here. You get nothing.
They stripped me down to my thin chemise, then threw a rough peasant dress at me. Brown, patched, too big. The kind of dress I'd never worn in my life.
They shoved me into a new cell, smaller, darker, colder.
The door slammed. The lock clicked.
I stood in complete darkness, wearing rags, sentenced to death at dawn.
My face throbbed where the guard had hit me. My throat burned from holding back tears. Everything hurt.
But underneath the pain, that rage from last night burned hotter.
If I somehow survived the Wildlands, if by some miracle I lived through tomorrow—I would make them all pay.
Adrian. Celeste. My father. Every single person who'd condemned me.
I pressed my hand against the cold stone wall and made myself a promise in the darkness.
They wanted me dead. They wanted me forgotten.
I would become their worst nightmare instead.