Seraphina's POV
The assassin's blade came down fast.
I couldn't see it from the castle gates, but I felt it—that electric moment when someone's life hangs by a thread.
Strange. I'd never been psychic before.
"My lady?" Captain Rothgar, my escort commander, frowned at me. "Are you well? You look pale."
I shook off the odd feeling and straightened in my saddle. "I'm fine. Just eager to meet my future husband."
Eager to destroy him, I meant. But Rothgar didn't need to know that.
The Kingdom of Valtheim's capital loomed ahead—Ironveil, they called it. The walls were high but crumbling. The gates were reinforced but rusted. Everything about this place screamed "dying kingdom."
Perfect.
"Remember your mission, daughter." Father's voice echoed in my mind from our last conversation three days ago. General Marcus Ashenheart, the man who'd conquered three kingdoms without losing a single battle. The Iron General. My hero.
And my commander.
"Prince Adrian Valtheris is a drunk and a fool," Father had said, pacing in his war room. "The intelligence reports are clear. He gambles away fortunes, fails at everything he tries, and his own family mocks him openly."
"Then why marry me to him?" I'd asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Because weak men talk in their sleep." Father smiled—that cold, calculating smile that meant someone was about to lose everything. "You'll marry him. Share his bed. Learn every secret of Valtheim's defenses, their treasury, their allies. Within six months, you'll send me everything I need to crush this kingdom without losing a single soldier."
"And if he's smarter than the reports say?"
Father had laughed. Actually laughed. "Seraphina, I've read every report on Prince Adrian for the past five years. The boy once tried to knight his own horse while drunk. He's no threat to you."
Now, riding through Ironveil's gates, I wasn't so sure.
The city felt... tense. Like a drawn bowstring about to snap.
Soldiers watched us pass with suspicious eyes. Citizens whispered behind their hands. Everything felt wrong, like I'd walked into a room right after a murder.
"The castle, my lady." Rothgar pointed ahead.
Ironveil Castle rose before us—dark stone towers reaching toward gray clouds. It should have been impressive. Instead, it looked like a tomb.
My tomb, if I wasn't careful.
But I didn't become the youngest spy in my father's network by being careless.
I'd been training for this since I was eight years old. Combat. Strategy. Seduction. Poisons. Every tool a weapon needed to destroy kingdoms from the inside.
Prince Adrian didn't stand a chance.
We stopped in the main courtyard. Servants rushed forward to help me dismount, but I did it myself. Never show weakness. Father's first rule.
"Welcome to Ironveil, Lady Seraphina." A nervous official bowed too low. "His Majesty King Aldric will receive you shortly. Your chambers are being prepared—"
"Where is Prince Adrian?" I interrupted. "I'd like to meet my future husband."
The official's face went white. "His Highness is... indisposed at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow—"
"Now."
My voice cracked like a whip. I'd learned that tone from Father. The one that said I'm not asking.
"I... I don't know where he is, my lady. He left this morning for his province and hasn't returned. There were some... complications."
Complications. Interesting word.
"What kind of complications?"
"I'm not at liberty to—"
A scream cut through the air.
Everyone froze.
It came from the east tower—high-pitched, terrified, cut off suddenly.
Then silence.
The official tried to smile. "Just a servant dropping something. Nothing to—"
Another scream. Closer. And this time I heard steel clashing against steel.
Fighting. Inside the castle.
I moved before anyone could stop me, running toward the sound. Rothgar shouted behind me but I didn't care. Something was happening, something important, and every instinct I'd trained screamed at me to see it.
I took stairs three at a time, following the sounds of combat. Turned a corner. Kicked open a door—
And stopped dead.
Three masked men surrounded a young man with auburn hair and green eyes. He was bleeding from a cut on his arm. An old servant lay unconscious in the corner.
The young man moved like water—dodging, weaving, grabbing a candelabra and smashing it into one attacker's face. Not trained fighting. Street fighting. Dirty. Brutal. Effective.
He fought like he'd done it a thousand times before.
One assassin went down. Then another.
The third lunged with a knife. The young man caught his wrist, twisted it until bone cracked, and slammed the assassin's head into the wall.
All three attackers lay unconscious in under thirty seconds.
The young man stood there panting, bleeding, his green eyes burning with cold rage that made my breath catch.
This was Prince Adrian?
The drunk fool who knighted horses?
Impossible.
He turned slowly, those predator's eyes locking onto mine.
For three heartbeats, we just stared at each other.
I'd studied a hundred men. Seduced dozens. Killed three. I knew how to read people—see their weaknesses, find their breaking points.
But looking into Prince Adrian's eyes was like looking into a mirror.
A predator staring back at another predator.
"Lady Seraphina, I assume?" His voice was rough from fighting but steady. Controlled. No panic. No fear.
"Prince Adrian." I stepped into the room, careful to keep my own shock hidden. "Interesting welcome party."
"My brother's idea of a greeting." He wiped blood from his lip casually. "Daemon doesn't like it when I make him look bad."
His brother sent assassins? And he spoke about it like discussing the weather?
"You're bleeding," I observed.
"I've had worse." He smiled—cold and dangerous. "Though I appreciate your concern, my lady. Most women would be screaming right now."
"I'm not most women."
"No." His eyes traveled over me, assessing. Calculating. "No, you're definitely not."
This changed everything.
Father's reports were wrong. Completely wrong.
Prince Adrian wasn't a drunk fool. He was something far more dangerous.
But what?
"We should get you to a healer," I said, playing the concerned bride. "Your arm—"
"Will heal." He walked past me toward the door, then paused. "Tell me something, Lady Seraphina. Did your father really send you here to marry me? Or did he send you to spy on us?"
My heart stopped.
He knew.
How could he possibly know?
I kept my face perfectly calm, letting confusion show instead of panic. "I don't understand. My father arranged this marriage for peace between our kingdoms—"
"Please." Adrian turned back, that cold smile widening. "General Marcus Ashenheart conquered three kingdoms. He doesn't make peace. He destroys enemies. Which means you're here to help him destroy us."
Nobody should know that. The mission was top secret. Even most of my father's own officers didn't know the real plan.
"You're mistaken," I said smoothly. "I'm simply a bride—"
"You're a weapon." He stepped closer. Close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his green eyes. "A beautiful, deadly weapon sent to destroy my kingdom from the inside. Which means we have two options."
"And what are those?"
"Option one: You try to complete your mission. I counter every move. Eventually one of us kills the other. Messy. Wasteful."
"And option two?"
His smile turned genuinely amused. "We work together. You help me save this kingdom. I help you survive what's coming."
"What's coming?"
"War." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your father's not making peace, Seraphina. He's positioning pieces for an invasion. And when it comes, everyone you're supposed to betray will die. Including you."
Ice ran through my veins.
"That's ridiculous. My father would never—"
"Your father," Adrian interrupted, "is a brilliant general. Which means he knows the first rule of war: never leave witnesses who know your secrets."
He walked to the door, then looked back one final time.
"Think about it, my lady. Because in two days, we're getting married. And you need to decide: Are you my enemy? Or are you going to be the smartest decision you ever made?"
The door closed behind him.
I stood alone in a room full of unconscious assassins, my mind spinning.
How did he know about the invasion?
How did he know Father's plans?
And most terrifying of all:
Who was Prince Adrian Valtheris really?