Seraphina's POV
The throne room is nothing like I expected.
No torture devices. No skulls mounted on walls. Just stone, sunlight through tall windows, and a simple throne carved from black wood.
The monster's lair looks almost... normal.
Duke Cassian Nightveil sits on that throne, and despite everything—despite three weeks of hell, despite being dragged here in chains—my treacherous brain notices things it shouldn't.
He's younger than the propaganda claimed. Maybe twenty-nine at most. Dark hair that's slightly too long, brushing his collar. Sharp cheekbones and a mouth that looks like it rarely smiles. And those eyes—silver like winter frost, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
He's handsome in a way that feels dangerous. Like a blade is beautiful right before it cuts you.
I hate that I noticed.
Well? His voice is deep, cold, cutting through the silence. Aren't you going to beg for mercy? Cry? Explain how innocent you are and I should pity you?
Every person in the room stares at me. His advisors. His guards. All waiting for me to break down like the weak Golden Court princess they expect.
Three weeks ago, I would have.
That girl died somewhere between the cathedral and here.
I prefer 'Your Grace's unwanted wife,' I say, forcing my voice steady despite my shaking legs. Since that's what I am now, isn't it? The Golden Court's garbage, dumped on your doorstep.
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut.
Then Cassian laughs, a short, genuinely surprised sound. They said you were weak. Easily manipulated. A perfect little doll who'd shatter at harsh words.
They lied. I meet those silver eyes even though looking at him makes something in my chest twist uncomfortably. They lied about everything. Including you.
His amusement vanishes instantly. Careful.
You're not old, I continue, too tired to be smart about this. Not scarred and ugly. Not the savage monster from the stories. Which means everything else they told me about you was probably a lie too.
A tall man behind Cassian, kind eyes, worried expression—steps forward. Your Grace, she could be manipulating
Let her speak, Mikhael. Cassian's eyes never leave mine. I want to hear what the Golden Court's cast-off princess has to say.
The way he says cast-off shouldn't sting. But it does.
I'm not manipulating anyone, I say flatly. I'm just stating facts. You want me here even less than I want to be here. So let's stop pretending and get this over with.
Get what over with? He stands abruptly.
And I realize my mistake.
Sitting, he was intimidating. Standing, he's overwhelming. Tall and broad-shouldered, moving with the easy grace of someone trained for violence. He descends the throne steps like a predator approaching prey.
My heart hammers as he stops directly in front of me.
This close, I can see the scar cutting across his left cheekbone—old, well-healed, probably from a sword. This close, I can smell leather and something darker, like smoke. This close, I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
I refuse to look away first.
The wedding, I force out. Or whatever passes for one here. You need this marriage to humiliate the Golden Court. I need— My voice cracks. I don't know what I need anymore. But standing here while everyone glares at me isn't helping either of us.
Something flickers in those silver eyes. Not sympathy—nothing that soft. But maybe recognition.
You're not what I expected, he says quietly, and his voice does something to my spine that I don't want to examine.
Neither are you.
That doesn't mean we're allies.
I know.
We stand there, too close, the air between us charged with something I can't name. His eyes search my face like he's looking for lies, for weakness, for whatever he expected the Golden Court to send him.
I don't know what he sees, but finally he steps back.
I can breathe again.
The wedding happens in one hour, he announces. It will be quick and legal. After that, you'll go to your chambers and stay there until I decide what to do with you.
Fine, I say, because what choice do I have?
His mouth quirks—not quite a smile, but close. You're going to be trouble, aren't you?
Probably.
This time he does smile, sharp and dangerous. Good. I hate boring prisoners.
The wedding is exactly what he promised, cold and quick. A priest speaks words I barely hear. Cassian and I each say I accept when prompted, our voices flat and emotionless.
He doesn't put a ring on my finger. I don't wear white.
When the priest declares us married, Cassian doesn't kiss me. He just looks at me with those unsettling silver eyes for one long moment, then turns and walks away.
I tell myself the weird feeling in my stomach is relief.
I'm escorted to my chambers by a woman with a sword, Elara, she says curtly. The room is nice: large bed, window overlooking valleys, simple furniture.
Don't try to escape, Elara warns. Where would you go?
She leaves me alone.
I should rest. Process. Cry.
Instead, I wait until the fortress grows quiet, then slip out of my room.
If I want to survive here, I need information. And information doesn't come to prisoners who stay locked up like good little girls.
The corridor is empty. I follow lamplight until I find a study—door slightly ajar, papers scattered across a desk inside.
Perfect.
I slip in and start searching. Military reports. Tax records. Letters from allies.
Then I see it: a folder marked with the Ashcroft family seal.
My hands shake as I open it.
Letters. Real correspondence between someone in the Golden Court and the Shadow Marches. I pull one out:
The eldest daughter suspects nothing. She believes the Crown Prince loves her. When the time comes, she'll be easy to remove. The younger daughter is more suitable for our purposes. Proceed as planned.
Celeste's handwriting.
My sister was planning my destruction with the Shadow Duke?
I flip through more letters, my mind racing. Another one stops me cold:
The Duke should know the evidence against Seraphina is fabricated. She's innocent. But her removal serves both our interests.
They knew. Cassian knew I was framed, and he still
Looking for something?
My heart stops.
I spin around.
Cassian stands in the doorway, silver eyes gleaming in the lamplight. He's changed into simple black clothes that somehow make him look more dangerous—relaxed but deadly, like a wolf deciding whether to pounce.
I My mouth goes dry.
He walks in slowly, deliberately. Each step makes my pulse spike. He stops close enough that I'd have to push past him to escape.
Close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.
Breaking into my study on your first night. His voice is soft, almost amused. Bold. Stupid, but bold.
I needed answers. I hold up the letters with shaking hands. These prove I was framed. My sister planned everything. And you knew.
I did.
The admission punches the air from my lungs.
Then why? My voice breaks. Why accept this marriage if you knew I was innocent?
He steps closer. I step back. My hip hits the desk.
Trapped.
Because you're useful, he says simply.
The words are a slap across the face.
Useful, I repeat, hating how my voice shakes. Just like everyone else. My father used me for political connections. Lucian used me for my family's power. Celeste used me as a stepping stone. And now you
I'm being honest, he interrupts, and suddenly he's right there, one hand braced on the desk beside me, leaning in. Unlike them, I'm not pretending this is anything other than what it is. A transaction. You have information I need. I have answers you want. That's all this is.
I should be angry. Should push him away.
Instead, I'm frozen, staring up into silver eyes that are too close, too intense, seeing too much.
At least you're honest about using me, I whisper.
Yes. Something shifts in his expression—not quite softer, but less cold. I've had enough of pretty lies. So here's the truth: you're the Golden Court's perfect princess, publicly destroyed. You know their secrets, their weaknesses. Having you here drives your family insane. And most importantly— He pauses, eyes dropping to my mouth for just a second before snapping back up. You're more interesting than I expected.
My breath catches.
The air between us feels electric, dangerous. I should move away. Should put distance between us.
I don't.
Then let's make a deal, I hear myself say.
His eyebrow arches. What?
You want information about the Golden Court. I want to understand who destroyed me and why. I force myself to maintain eye contact even though my heart is racing. We help each other.
And why should I trust you?
Because I have nothing left to lose. No family. No home. No reputation. I straighten my spine, refusing to be intimidated even with him this close. The only thing I have is the truth. And I'm willing to trade it.
He studies me for a long moment. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, cataloging every detail of my face.
Very well, he says finally. You give me intelligence. I give you answers. Fair trade.
He extends his hand.
I take it.
His grip is strong, callused from sword work, warmer than I expected. The touch sends a shock up my arm that has nothing to do with magic.
One rule, he says, not letting go. Don't lie to me. If I catch you in a single lie, you go back to being a pretty prisoner in a tower. Understood?
Understood. Same for you.
His smile is sharp. Deal.
We're still holding hands. Neither of us lets go.
You should know something, he says quietly, and pulls a letter from the bottom of the folder with his free hand. Read this.
He releases me to hand it over, and my skin feels cold where he touched it.
I read the letter. My father's handwriting:
My eldest daughter carries dangerous bloodline—Mediator magic in her veins. If it awakens, she could threaten everything. Remove her before she realizes what she is. Name your price.
The paper shakes in my hands. Mediator magic? What is that?
Cassian leans against the desk beside me, close enough that our arms almost touch. A bloodline the Golden Court has been trying to extinct for generations. Mediators can unite fractured powers, balance opposing forces. Your power could legitimize rulers—or destroy them.
I don't have any power, I say, but my voice sounds uncertain even to me.
You do. It just hasn't awakened yet. He turns to face me fully, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. And everyone—your family, Lucian, even me—wants to control that power before you realize you have it.
The revelation should terrify me.
Instead, all I can focus on is how close he's standing. How his silver eyes seem to see straight through every defense I've built.
So what now? I whisper.
He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, his fingers catch my chin, tilting my face up to his.
The touch is gentle but firm. Possessive in a way that should make me angry.
It doesn't.
Now, he says softly, voice dropping to something that sounds almost dangerous, we see if the Golden Court's discarded princess can survive becoming the Shadow Duke's greatest weapon.
I'm not a weapon.
No. His thumb brushes across my jaw—barely a touch, but it sends heat through my entire body. You're something far more dangerous than that.
What?
His smile is slow and devastating. You're someone I'm starting to want to keep.
The words hang in the air between us, charged with meaning I don't fully understand.
Before I can respond, he drops his hand and steps back, breaking whatever spell just wrapped around us.
It's late, he says, voice returning to cold formality like the last minute didn't happen. Elara will escort you back to your chambers. We'll continue this discussion tomorrow.
He walks to the door, then pauses without looking back.
Sleep well, wife. Tomorrow, your real education begins.
Then he's gone, leaving me alone in the study with racing heart and trembling hands.
I touch my jaw where his thumb brushed across my skin.
The monster isn't what I expected.
And that's the most terrifying thing of all.