She broke it open. Unfolded the parchment with steady hands.
Caelan moved closer. Reading over her shoulder.
My dearest Seraphina,
The northern mines feel colder without you, though I confess the work has kept my hands busy enough that I haven't gone mad from missing your warmth beside me each night. Do you remember that evening before your transformation? The way you looked at me, dropping the walls you'd kept between us for so long?
I can't stop thinking about it. About you. The way you let me in, and everything changed between us. Your body responded to me in ways I'd only dreamed about. The heat of your skin, the way you gasped when I touched you, how you arched into me without holding back anymore.
I gave you everything that night. Worshipped every part of you, learned what made your breath catch, what made you shiver beneath my hands. You were beautiful. Responsive. Mine in ways you'd never been before. And when I felt how ready you were for me, how your body answered mine without hesitation... God, Seraphina. That's all I can think about.
The way you fit against me. Perfect. I couldn't stop touching you, couldn't get enough. Twice, maybe three times. I stopped counting because all that mattered was the way you surrendered to me, the way you let me claim you.
The mine operations have concluded ahead of schedule, which means I can return to you sooner than expected. I find myself counting the hours until I can hold you again, until I can feel your skin beneath my hands and hear those sounds you made when we moved together. Until I can taste you again, touch you again, love you the way I did that night.
I've been thinking about our future. About the children we'll have. I picture a daughter with your eyes, or perhaps a son who inherits your intelligence. The D'Lorien bloodline deserves continuation, and after that night... after experiencing how perfectly we fit together, how your body welcomed mine... I can think of no greater joy than watching you grow round with my child. Seeing you carry the legacy we created together.
Her stomach turned. Bile rising in her throat.
I've arranged for us to attend the autumn gala at House Meridian next month. It will be good for you to be seen in society again, especially given the unfortunate rumors that have reached even these northern provinces. People whisper such poison about us, my darling, but a united front will silence their speculation. Let them see how devoted we are to each other. Let them witness what we have.
I should arrive at D'Lorien within three days, perhaps sooner if the roads remain clear. I have so much to discuss with you about our future. Matters of legacy and family that feel urgent now. That night proved something changed between us, and I need to build on it while the warmth between us is still fresh.
Your devoted and loving husband,Alaric
P.S. I've brought you a gift from the mines. A necklace of northern diamonds to match the ring I placed on your finger when you became mine. I look forward to fastening it around your throat myself, just as I claimed you that night.
...
The silence in the study felt too loud.
Her hands began to shake. Fire-scars flared white-hot, burning so fierce the parchment edges charred black.
The letter crumpled in her fist. Stomach lurching, bile climbing her throat. She swallowed hard, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached.
She wanted to burn it. Burn the desk. Burn the entire fucking estate down around her and watch Alaric's delusions turn to ash.
"He thinks..." Her voice strangled on the words. Feral. She had to stop. Breathe through the nausea. Force the words past the rage choking her. "He thinks that night was real."
Behind her, Caelan's breathing changed. Shallow. Controlled. Dangerous.
He'd just read every word. Every pornographic detail written like love letters instead of evidence.
"What night?" His voice sounded tight and lethal. Throat working like he was swallowing glass. "I pulled you out of that room. I thought..." He stopped. Realization hitting like a physical blow. "After the borders. While I was gone."
"Different night." Her laugh sounded jagged. Bitter. Her skin crawled just thinking about it. "After you interrupted the first attempt. After they pulled you to the eastern borders."
"He isolated me." Her voice went hollow. "Guards at every corridor. Servants vanished. Escape routes blocked." Her throat tightened. "And you were gone within the hour to defend the realm while I was trapped alone with him."
She pressed her palm flat against the desk. The wood was cold enough to ground her. The memory lurched, and she forced air back into her lungs.
"The night I performed devotion so convincingly he believed I chose him." The words tasted like ash. "Counted ceiling cracks while he worshipped me. Made myself sick afterward because my body betrayed me even while my mind stayed frozen."
Her fire-scars pulsed hotter. The letter crumpled further, edges blackening.
He replays it like it was love. He remembers me gasping. Thinks it was passion. The strategic breathing I practiced for weeks. He recalls my hands on his skin and believes I was reaching for him.
She couldn't finish the thought. Enduring his touch while staying detached enough to survive it.
When she glanced back, his face had drained white. Bloodless.
Something in him cracked open. Raw and lethal.
"Endure him?" The word ripped out of her, sharp and vicious. "I survived him. There's a difference."
Her fire-scars seared hotter. The parchment tore under her grip, knuckles creaking with the force.
"Three times." She forced the words through teeth clenched so hard they ached. "He stopped counting after three. As if that was romantic. As if I wasn't dissociating so hard I had to remind myself to make sounds at appropriate intervals."
Part of her wanted to vomit. Another part wanted him to read every word and choke on it.
Behind her, Caelan moved. Fast. He circled to face her, and the devastation in his expression made her chest constrict.
His hands formed fists at his sides. Knuckles white. His entire body vibrated with barely restrained violence.
"I thought I saved you." His voice broke on the words. Ragged. "Thought pulling you from that room was enough. But he waited. Orchestrated it. While I was fighting demons probably escalating because of the bloodline he was violating..."
He stopped. Couldn't finish.
His shoulders heaved with restraint. Something shifted in her chest.
"Caelan." She stood. Legs unsteady. Fire-scars blazing. "Look at me."
He turned. The raw anguish in his expression nearly broke her.
"That night wasn't real," she said fiercely. "What he remembers isn't what happened. He experienced devotion. I experienced violation. He felt connection. I felt my body betray me while my mind stayed frozen."
Every sound. Every touch. Every moment he's replaying as love was calculated performance. Making him believe I wanted him when all I wanted was for it to be over.
She couldn't say that part out loud.
Caelan's jaw worked. "Reading him describe it as if you wanted it. As if you were his..." The words strangled in his throat.
"He's planning to arrive and recreate it." Seraphina's voice went flat. Cold. "Expecting the devoted wife from that night to welcome him. To submit to pregnancy. To wear his collar disguised as diamonds and thank him for the privilege."
His expression shifted. Pure steel beneath the devastation. "Over my dead body."
...
"Over his, actually." Her voice hardened into steel. "But we control the timeline. He doesn't."
Caelan's jaw tightened. "Three days until he arrives expecting the wife from that night. Expecting you to welcome him back. To recreate what he thinks you shared." His voice went flat. Cold. "To get you pregnant and bind you to him permanently."
Seraphina looked at the letter again. Skin crawling at the loving language wrapped around calculated manipulation.
Her stomach turned. Alaric had studied her. Learned her. Mapped every point of potential control like she was a problem to solve instead of a person to know.
A younger version of herself might have blushed at the intimate references. Might have felt flattered by his hunger. Touched by his dreams of children.
But she'd died once already.
She knew what came after women got pregnant with futures they didn't choose.
The forced marriage records sat on the table beside them. Three generations of women who'd received similar letters. Loving words that preceded calculated manipulation. Strategic pregnancies that trapped them in unions designed to suppress their power.
The ink on the oldest document had faded to brown. She hadn't noticed that before.
"Then we move faster." Caelan's voice cut through her thoughts.
"We can't outrun him to the capital and back in three days."
"No." His hand found hers. Fingers threading through with careful deliberation. "But we can make sure he arrives to find you've already set everything in motion. File for divorce tonight. Send the courier to the imperial palace immediately. By the time Alaric reaches D'Lorien estate expecting his compliant wife, you'll already be under imperial protection with legal separation documented."
His thumb brushed across her knuckles. They'd been careful since the soulfire bond sacrifice. Maintaining professional distance even while working side by side.
"You're doing this alone," Caelan said quietly. "Whatever he planned, whatever pattern he's following. You have resources he doesn't know about. You have evidence he doesn't know you've found. And you have me."
Seraphina looked at their joined hands. Then up at his face. This man who'd given up their soulfire bond to protect her future. Who'd helped her sort through generations of conspiracy without once suggesting she was overreacting or paranoid.
Who stood with her now as she prepared to shatter every expectation her husband held.
"Then we'd better get started." Caelan squeezed her hand once before releasing it. Already moving toward the study door. "I'll wake the solicitor. You draft the message for the Empress."
"Caelan." He paused. Looking back at her. "Thank you. For reading between the lines with me. For understanding what this letter means."
Something shifted in his expression. Vulnerability bleeding through the military precision. "I've been reading between your lines since the moment we met, Seraphina. I'm not stopping now."
He left to rouse their legal counsel. Footsteps fading down the corridor.
She looked back at Alaric's letter. The perfectly constructed phrases that would have trapped a younger version of herself. A woman who hadn't died and regressed with full memories. Who hadn't completed three trials and discovered the truth about ward networks and bloodline suppression.
But she wasn't that woman anymore.
She pulled fresh parchment toward her. Each word chosen with surgical precision.
This wasn't a request for casual audience. This was an emergency appeal from a Flamebearer whose bloodline maintained protection for seventeen noble houses. Whose ward network was collapsing. Whose realm faced coordinated demon attacks within weeks.
This was a declaration of war against every conspiracy that had killed Celestine women for over a century.
When Caelan returned with the solicitor fifteen minutes later, she'd already sealed her message to the Empress. The D'Lorien crest pressed into crimson wax.
She looked up at them both with absolute clarity.
"Send a courier to the imperial palace immediately. Request an audience with the Empress tomorrow." Her voice carried the weight of irreversible decision. "Mark it urgent. We're out of time."
The solicitor bowed and left with the sealed message.
Caelan moved to follow, then paused at the doorway. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be..."
"I'm not done yet." She pulled another sheet of parchment toward her. Her fire-scars still blazing hot beneath her skin.
He turned back. Watched her quill hover over blank paper.
"What are you doing?"
She smiled, and it was sharp. Cold. Nothing like the woman Alaric expected to welcome him home.
"Writing my husband a letter."
She dipped her quill in ink. The smell thick as blood. Let the rage burning through her veins bleed into every stroke.
Alaric wanted his devoted wife? The one who gasped and arched and surrendered?
He was about to discover exactly what he'd married instead.
...
She sealed the parchment with crimson wax, the D'Lorien crest pressed deep enough to crack. The wax hissed as it cooled.
"He's already on the road from the northern mines," she told the courier. "Intercept him. Deliver this before he reaches the D'Lorien estate."
The messenger bowed, cloak snapping in the wind as he vanished into the storm.
Seraphina watched the door close and exhaled, the heat under her skin steady and clean now... no longer wild.
Let him read this one, she thought. Let him learn what devotion burns like when the fire answers back.