Seraphina's POV
The bedroom door slammed shut behind us, and I heard the bolt slide into place.
My new husband—the supposed drunk fool Prince Adrian—locked us in together.
My hand moved toward the knife hidden in my dress, pure instinct. But I forced myself to smile instead, playing the shy bride like Father taught me.
"Your Highness," I said softly, lowering my eyes. "The ceremony was beautiful."
It had been perfect, actually. Adrian stood straight through the whole thing, didn't slur a single word, and kissed my hand so gently that half the noble ladies sighed. The perfect gentleman prince.
Too perfect.
Something was wrong. Everyone said Adrian Valtheris was a disaster—drunk by noon, stupid, harmless. But the man I'd watched today moved with controlled precision. His eyes stayed sharp and clear. And during the ceremony, when he spoke his vows, his voice carried the kind of quiet authority that made soldiers obey without question.
I'd seen that authority before. In my father. In generals who'd conquered kingdoms.
Not in useless drunk princes.
"Drop the act," Adrian said suddenly.
My head snapped up. He stood by the window, pouring two glasses of wine, and his smile was cold and knowing.
"What act?" I kept my voice innocent.
"The shy virgin bride act. We both know you're about as innocent as a viper in tall grass." He turned, offering me a glass. "Your father sent you here to spy. To seduce me. To learn Valtheim's weaknesses so the Ashenheart Empire can crush us properly."
My blood turned to ice. Nobody should know that. Not even the King knew the real reason for this marriage alliance.
"You're drunk," I said carefully.
"I haven't touched alcohol in three weeks." He took a sip of wine, watching me over the rim. "Everyone thinks I'm still the same pathetic drunk because that's what I want them to think. But you're smarter than everyone else, aren't you? That's why Daddy sent his precious daughter instead of some minor noble girl."
I studied him back, really looked at him for the first time.
Adrian Valtheris had always been handsome in that wasted, pretty-boy way. Dark auburn hair, sharp green eyes, good bones under the softness. But something had changed recently. His face looked harder now. Leaner. And those green eyes held shadows that hadn't been there before—the kind of shadows that came from seeing too much darkness.
"Alright," I said, dropping my shy act like a coat. "Let's speak honestly then. Yes, my father sent me to spy. But you need this alliance as much as we do. Your kingdom's bankrupt, your army's a joke, and your brothers are circling like sharks. You should be grateful I'm here instead of enemy soldiers."
"Oh, I am grateful." Adrian's smile sharpened. "Beautiful spy-wife is much better than ugly army. At least this way, my bedroom has nice scenery."
Heat rushed to my cheeks—from anger, not embarrassment. "You're playing a dangerous game, husband."
"I've been playing dangerous games my whole life. I'm very good at them."
We stared at each other across the room. The wedding night stretched ahead—hours alone together, everyone expecting us to consummate the marriage. Instead, we were having a spy-versus-spy standoff.
Fine. I could work with this.
I took a small sip of wine, then moved closer to him. Slowly. Letting my silver-blonde hair catch the candlelight. My dress was designed to be stunning—ice-blue silk that matched my eyes. I'd been trained since childhood in the art of distraction.
"Maybe we can help each other," I suggested, voice turning softer. "I'll tell you what Father's planning if you tell me what you're really up to. Fair trade?"
"Nothing's fair in war, sweetheart." But his eyes followed my movement. Good. Men were always easier to read when distracted.
I sat on the edge of the bed, arranging my dress carefully. "You've changed. Everyone's talking about it. Three weeks ago, you could barely stand upright. Now you're negotiating with spies on your wedding night. What happened?"
"Maybe I just got tired of being useless."
"People don't change overnight."
"Some do." His voice went strange—distant and bitter. "When you hit bottom hard enough, you either stay down or claw your way back up. I chose up."
There was real pain in those words. Real darkness.
My training said to press the advantage, dig into that weakness. But something stopped me. Maybe because I recognized that darkness—I'd felt it too, every time Father sent me into danger while keeping my brothers safe at home.
"The wine's safe, by the way," Adrian added casually. "I know you're worried I drugged it. I didn't. I want you sharp for this conversation."
I'd been thinking exactly that. "How did you—"
"You took the world's smallest sip and you're still holding the glass like it might bite you." He refilled his own glass, completely relaxed. "I'm not that type of villain. If I wanted you unconscious, there are easier ways."
That should've scared me. Instead, I felt oddly... impressed?
We talked for hours. Danced around each other with words instead of weapons. Every time I tried to seduce information from him, he countered smoothly. Every time he pushed for my secrets, I deflected. It was the most intense conversation I'd ever had—two people who both knew exactly what game we were playing.
Around midnight, Adrian finally asked the question I'd been dreading:
"So tell me, Lady Seraphina. When your father's army invades—and they will invade—which side will you be on?"
My throat went tight. "I'm loyal to the Empire."
"That wasn't the question."
Before I could answer, someone screamed outside our door.
Then footsteps—running, panicked.
Then a voice shouting: "FIRE! The west wing is burning! Everyone evacuate!"
Adrian moved instantly, grabbing his sword from where it hung on the wall. The drunk-prince act vanished completely, replaced by someone who moved like a trained fighter.
"Stay here," he ordered.
"Absolutely not." I grabbed my hidden knife.
We burst into the hallway together. Smoke filled the corridor. Servants ran everywhere, screaming.
But Adrian wasn't looking at the fire.
He was looking at the guards—his personal guards—lying dead on the floor with daggers in their backs.
"This wasn't an accident," he said quietly. Deadly quiet.
"An assassination?" I breathed.
"On our wedding night, when everyone knows we're alone and distracted." His eyes met mine, and I saw cold calculation there. "Someone wants us both dead. The question is: was it my family or yours?"
Before I could answer, an explosion rocked the castle.
The floor beneath us cracked.
And then we were falling.