The academy's library was a cathedral of knowledge—soaring ceilings lost in shadow, shelves that stretched up three stories, and the constant whisper of turning pages like prayers to forgotten gods. Priam had discovered it by accident on the evening of his third day, slipping away from his duties for a few precious hours of solitude.
But tonight, he had a different purpose.
He moved through the restricted section—technically off-limits to servants, but the head librarian had been bribed with a simple tea and a sympathetic ear about her difficult husband—searching for the Chronicles of Noble Houses. If he wanted to understand the players in this dangerous game, he needed their histories, their motivations, their secrets.
"Impressive collection, isn't it?"
Priam nearly dropped the book he was holding. He turned to find a young woman watching him with an expression of mild amusement. She had dark hair arranged in fashionable waves, sharp black eyes that seemed to catalogue everything, and an elegant dress of deep burgundy that spoke of considerable wealth.
Lady Vivienne Nightshade.
"My lady," Priam said, bowing immediately. "I apologize for my presence here. I was merely retrieving a volume for—"
"For yourself, I think," Vivienne interrupted, gesturing at the book in his hand. It was the Nightshade Family Chronicle. "Research into rival houses? How very enterprising of you."
There was no judgment in her tone, but Priam understood he was being assessed. "I merely seek to better serve my lady by understanding the society she navigates."
"Of course." Vivienne smiled, an expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The devoted butler, gathering intelligence. How touching." She moved closer, and Priam fought the urge to retreat. "Tell me, Ashford, have you calculated the odds of your lady actually capturing the Crown Prince?"
"My lady is exceptional, I'm sure His Highness—"
"Will eventually marry whoever serves the kingdom's political interests best," Vivienne finished smoothly. "Probably not our dear Seraphina, despite her recent success. She's too volatile, too ambitious in obvious ways. The court prefers subtle ambition." She paused. "Unless, of course, someone prevents her from being volatile."
Priam's heart rate spiked, but he kept his expression neutral. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning, my lady."
"I think you do." Vivienne tilted her head, studying him like a predator assessing prey. "You've been redirecting her for days now. Subtle interventions, strategic suggestions, preventing encounters that would destabilize her carefully constructed reputation. Why would a servant invest so much effort in protecting his mistress's image?"
Because I'm trying to save her from a doomed narrative, Priam thought. But aloud, he said: "Loyalty to my lady's interests seems consistent with my duties."
"Loyalty." Vivienne smiled more genuinely this time. "How refreshingly straightforward. Most people in this academy are drowning in ambition, but you... you almost seem to have a different agenda entirely." She reached out, taking the Nightshade Chronicle from his hands. "For instance, why research our house? My family has been nothing but diplomatically pleasant to your lady."
"I research all prominent houses, my lady. To better understand the political landscape."
"Mmm. Strategic thinking from a servant's perspective. Unusual." She replaced the book on the shelf with deliberate care. "You know, Ashford, if you ever find yourself needing an ally—someone with resources and information—my family has a reputation for rewarding competence. Regardless of station."
It was an offer. A calculated offer that could mean anything from genuine alliance to elaborate trap.
"I'm honored, my lady, but my loyalty is to House Ashcroft."
"Of course. But loyalty can have room for... mutual interests." She turned to leave, then paused. "By the way, did you know that Lady Elara's family and the Nightshades have trade agreements? Interesting how many connections exist between seemingly rival houses, when you look closely."
She departed, leaving Priam standing alone among the shelves, his mind spinning.
She knows something. Or suspects something. But what?
The next morning, Priam began his actual work with renewed focus. He started documenting patterns—which students met with which advisors, which families conducted business with each other, which apparent rivalries might actually be coordinated schemes.
He befriended Marcus, the Ravencrest butler, over breakfast in the servants' hall.
"You're interested in academy politics," Marcus observed, not unkindly, as Priam carefully steered their conversation. "Most servants just focus on their lady's immediate needs."
"I find it useful to understand the broader context," Priam replied. "It helps me anticipate my lady's requirements."
Marcus considered this. "Smart. Most people don't realize how much information flows through servant networks. We see everything—the private conversations, the secret meetings, the alliances made in shadows." He leaned back. "For instance, did you know that Lady Elara actually tutors some of the lower-ranking students in etiquette? Doesn't advertise it. But she's built quite a network of grateful allies."
"How is that possible?" Priam asked, letting genuine curiosity show. "Most noble daughters compete viciously."
"Exactly. Which is why her kindness stands out. Makes people want to help her succeed." Marcus smiled wryly. "In the game of noble politics, there are more strategies than just aggression."
She's playing the long game, Priam realized. Building allies through genuine kindness. That's actually more effective than Seraphina's direct approach.
But then Marcus added, almost casually: "Though Elara's father did some significant financial work for House Rosefield's rivals last year. Odd, given how close the families appear. Makes you wonder if there's calculation beneath that sweet exterior."
Priam filed that information away.
Over the next week, he gathered more pieces of the puzzle. He learned that Isolde Ravencrest's family was in financial strain despite their noble status—a fact she kept carefully hidden. He discovered that Princess Celestine had once been close friends with Elara but they'd had some kind of falling out. He even managed to extract information from a gossiping maid about how Aria Goldsworth's merchant family had sudden financial backing—from an unknown source.
What emerged was far more complex than the game had suggested. The academy wasn't simply a collection of individuals competing for the Prince's attention. It was a web of alliances, debts, secrets, and hidden motivations.
And in the center of it all was Seraphina, still operating on the assumption that she simply needed to be perfect enough to win.
That evening, Priam found Seraphina in her sitting room, reviewing political theory texts for her afternoon class with the Prince. Over the past week, His Highness had arranged three more private meetings with her. Their connection was deepening visibly.
The problem was, Seraphina still didn't fully understand the game board she was playing on.
"My lady, may I ask you something?" Priam said carefully.
Seraphina looked up from her book. "Of course."
"How well do you know Lady Elara Rosefield?"
The question seemed to surprise her. "Not well at all. She's pleasant when we encounter each other, but we don't move in the same circles. Why?"
"I've been gathering information about the other students," Priam explained. "Trying to understand potential allies and rivals. And I've discovered something interesting about her."
He laid out what he'd learned—Elara's tutoring network, the political connections her kindness had created, the carefully maintained image of sweetness that masked strategic thinking.
Seraphina listened carefully, her expression growing thoughtful. "You're saying she's more calculating than she appears."
"I'm saying she's playing a different game than you are. Where you're focused on direct conquest, she's building influence through reciprocal goodwill. Both strategies have merit, but they're fundamentally opposed."
"So I should see her as a threat?"
"I'm saying you should see her as what she actually is—a serious competitor with her own well-developed strategy." Priam paused. "In the game of noble politics, the most dangerous opponents are often those who appear harmless."
Seraphina absorbed this, then asked quietly, "Do you think the Prince prefers her to me?"
It was a vulnerable question, one that revealed the insecurity still lurking beneath her confident exterior.
"No," Priam said honestly. "His Highness is enjoying intellectual engagement with you. That's rare for him—most people either fawn or calculate too obviously. You're doing neither."
"But that could change if I'm not careful."
"It could. Which is why I wanted to tell you about the broader situation. You're not just competing with individuals for the Prince's attention. You're navigating a complex political landscape where every action has ripples."
Seraphina closed her book and stood, moving to the window. "I hate this sometimes, you know? The constant strategy, the endless games. I just want..." She trailed off.
"Want what, my lady?"
"To be valued for myself. Not for my connections or my beauty or my strategic utility. Just... me."
Priam felt something twist in his chest. This was the real Seraphina—the girl beneath the mask, tired of performing, yearning for genuine connection.
"That's why His Highness values your time," Priam said gently. "Because you're beginning to show him yourself. Not the performance. The actual person."
Seraphina turned to him, her violet eyes searching his face. "How is it that a servant understands politics better than most nobles?"
Because I've played this game as a video game. Because I know the outcome if I don't change it. Because I'm desperately trying to save you from a fate that seems written in stone.
"I observe, my lady. I watch how people interact and what motivates them. It's part of my duty to serve you well."
"There's more to it than that," Seraphina said, but she didn't press further. "Thank you, Priam. For everything you do. Not just the strategic advice, but... for seeing me. Not the Lady Ashcroft, not the future Crown Princess, but me."
After she dismissed him for the evening, Priam found himself in the library again, searching through different books now. Not political histories, but something deeper.
He was trying to understand his own feelings, which was ridiculous. He was supposed to be surviving, changing fate, maintaining distance from emotional entanglement.
Instead, he was falling for the villainess.
Not the villain from the game, all cruelty and ambition. But the real person underneath—intelligent, vulnerable, yearning for authenticity in a world built on performance.
This is bad, he thought, running his hands through his hair. This is the worst possible development.
Because if he actually cared about Seraphina as more than just a character to save, it would compromise his judgment. It would make him reckless. It would put them both in danger.
And yet, as he sat alone in the library surrounded by thousands of books full of ancient wisdom, Priam couldn't seem to care about any of those pragmatic concerns.
He was already too invested.
The question was: would he be able to save her despite that investment? Or would his feelings become the very thing that destroyed them both?