Sera's POV
Sera adjusted the pearl necklace around her throat and forced herself to breathe.
Three days since the masquerade. Three days of waiting for Duke Kaelen's investigation to close around her like a trap. Three days of pretending to be the carefree merchant Lady Sera while terror clawed at her insides.
Today, she had to attend Lady Thornwick's afternoon salon.
The invitation had arrived this morning—elegant script on cream parchment, requesting the pleasure of Lady Sera Ashwood's company for tea and conversation with the empire's most distinguished noblewomen.
Sera had nearly burned it.
Because Lady Thornwick's salons were hosted by Elara herself. The woman who'd framed Sera for treason. Who'd orchestrated her execution. Who now ruled the court from the shadows while wearing a beautiful smile.
Walking into Elara's salon was walking into the dragon's mouth.
But refusing the invitation would be suspicious. New nobility always attended these events to build connections and gain court favor. Declining would mark Sera as either arrogant or afraid.
So she'd accepted.
Now, standing outside the Thornwick estate's elegant parlor, Sera could hear feminine laughter drifting through the doors. The sound made her stomach turn.
Control. You're Sera. You belong here. Smile. Breathe.
Sera pushed open the doors.
The parlor was beautiful—sunlight streaming through tall windows, delicate furniture arranged in intimate clusters, tables laden with tea services and pastries. Twenty noblewomen in silk gowns sat in small groups, chatting and laughing.
And presiding over it all, seated in the place of honor near the fireplace, was Lady Elara Thornwick.
She looked radiant in pale blue, her golden hair styled perfectly, her smile warm and welcoming. The picture of gracious nobility.
Sera wanted to scream.
Lady Sera! Elara rose, extending both hands. How wonderful that you could join us. Come, let me introduce you to everyone.
Sera forced herself to take Elara's hands. To smile. To pretend touching her cousin didn't make her skin crawl.
The honor is mine, Lady Elara. Your home is stunning.
You're too kind. Elara's eyes swept over Sera's face with that same calculating sharpness from the masquerade. Searching. Questioning. I was just telling everyone about your impressive trading business. You must share your secrets to success.
For the next hour, Sera played the role perfectly. Laughing at jokes. Discussing import tariffs and fashion trends. Complimenting the other ladies' gowns and jewelry. Every moment felt like walking on glass—one wrong step and everything would shatter.
She was pouring her second cup of tea when a soft voice spoke beside her.
You look exhausted.
Sera turned to find a young woman with kind brown eyes and dark hair watching her with concern. She wore a simple but elegant rose-colored gown, and something about her face felt familiar.
I'm fine, Sera said automatically. Just adjusting to court life.
It can be overwhelming. The woman smiled gently. I'm Lady Mira Silverwind. I don't believe we've met.
Mira.
Sera's heart clenched with recognition.
Lady Mira Silverwind had been Princess Cassia's lady-in-waiting for three years. Sweet, loyal Mira who'd helped her dress for balls and listened to her worries and made her laugh when court politics became too heavy.
Mira who'd wept when Cassia was arrested.
Lady Mira. Sera's voice came out rougher than intended. I've heard wonderful things about you.
Have you? Mira looked surprised. That's kind, though I'm hardly important at court anymore.
They moved to a quieter corner of the parlor, away from the main conversations. Mira poured tea for both of them with practiced grace.
You seem different from the other new nobility, Mira observed. More... genuine somehow.
I'll take that as a compliment.
Please do. Mira's smile turned sad. Genuine people are rare at court. Most wear masks so often they forget their real faces underneath.
Something in her tone made Sera study her more carefully. You sound like you've seen that firsthand.
I have. Mira stared into her teacup. I once served someone who was genuine. Kind. Dedicated to justice and fairness. And this court destroyed her for it.
Sera's breath caught. Who?
Mira glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then said quietly, Princess Cassia Valordane.
The name hit Sera like a physical blow. Hearing it spoken aloud after five years—hearing it from someone who'd known her, served her, maybe even loved her—made emotion surge up her throat.
I heard about the trial, Sera managed. The treason charges.
Fabricated. Mira's voice was fierce despite being barely a whisper. Every bit of it. I knew Princess Cassia for three years. I knew her heart, her character, her absolute dedication to this empire. She was many things, but she was never a traitor.
How can you be certain?
Because I was there when they 'found' the evidence. Mira's hands trembled around her teacup. Weapons that appeared in her quarters overnight, even though I'd helped her prepare for bed just hours before and saw nothing. Documents with her signature, except the handwriting was slightly wrong. Witness testimonies that aligned too perfectly, like they'd been rehearsed.
What did you do?
I tried to speak up. Tried to tell the court something was wrong. Mira's eyes filled with tears. But I was just a lady-in-waiting. No one listened. And after the execution, my family was disgraced for having served a traitor. I was dismissed from court. We lost our position, our influence, everything.
I'm sorry, Sera whispered, and meant it with every fiber of her being.
The worst part wasn't losing status. Mira wiped her eyes quickly. It was knowing an innocent woman died and I couldn't save her. That the truth was buried along with her body.
They sat in silence for a moment, the chatter of the salon fading into background noise.
Why tell me this? Sera finally asked.
Mira met her eyes, and something sharp flickered in her gaze. Because you remind me of her. The way you carry yourself. The intelligence in your eyes. The way you looked at Lady Elara when you arrived—like you could see past her beautiful mask to the monster underneath.
Sera's heart stopped. I don't know what you mean.
Don't you? Mira's voice was gentle but knowing. It's all right, Lady Sera. I'm not going to expose whatever secrets you're hiding. I just want you to know that if you're planning something—if you're trying to uncover truths that powerful people want buried—you're not alone. Some of us still believe truth matters.
Before Sera could respond, Elara's voice rang out across the salon.
Ladies! I have wonderful news. Duke Kaelen Nightraven has agreed to join us for evening refreshments.
The room erupted in excited whispers. The Duke rarely attended social functions, especially ladies' salons. His presence was a tremendous honor.
Sera's stomach dropped.
How lovely, she heard herself say.
Mira squeezed her hand under the table. Be careful, she whispered. The Duke is brilliant. He notices everything.
As if summoned by his name, the parlor doors opened.
Duke Kaelen Nightraven entered with his usual controlled grace, dressed in black that made his gray eyes seem even sharper. He bowed to Elara, exchanged pleasantries with the other ladies.
Then his gaze found Sera across the room and locked on.
The air between them seemed to crackle.
Kaelen crossed the parlor directly toward her, ignoring the disappointed looks from other noblewomen hoping for his attention.
Lady Sera. He bowed slightly. What a pleasant surprise.
Your Grace. Sera curtsied, her heart hammering. I didn't expect to see you here.
Lady Elara was very persuasive. His eyes never left her face. And I find myself increasingly curious about new additions to court. Particularly mysterious merchants who dance like princesses.
Mira's sharp intake of breath was barely audible, but Sera heard it.
You flatter me, Your Grace.
Do I? Kaelen moved closer, lowering his voice so only Sera and Mira could hear. My investigation into your background has been... enlightening, Lady Sera. Though 'enlightening' might be the wrong word. 'Confusing' seems more accurate.
Sera's blood turned to ice. I'm sorry to hear that.
Are you? Those storm-gray eyes studied her with unnerving intensity. Because I get the impression you're hiding something. Something significant. And I've never been good at leaving mysteries unsolved.
They stood so close now that Sera could see the exact color of his eyes—iron and winter and something that looked almost like regret buried deep beneath layers of control.
Everyone has secrets, Your Grace, Sera said quietly.
True. But most people's secrets don't make my investigation go in circles. Most people's backgrounds don't have convenient gaps exactly where information should be.
He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to be dangerous.
Perhaps your investigation is looking in the wrong places, Sera suggested.
Or perhaps you're very good at covering your tracks. Kaelen's voice dropped even lower. Who are you really, Lady Sera Ashwood?
Before Sera could answer, a servant rushed into the parlor and whispered urgently to Elara.
Her cousin's face went pale. She stood abruptly. Forgive me, everyone. I've just received urgent news. Lord Aldwin Hartley has... there's been an incident.
Sera's heart stopped.
What kind of incident? Kaelen demanded.
He collapsed in his study. The physicians are with him now, but... Elara's voice trembled convincingly. They're not optimistic.
The room erupted in shocked whispers.
But Sera barely heard them. Because she was staring at Elara's face and seeing something the other ladies missed.
The tiny smile pulling at the corner of her cousin's mouth.
Lord Aldwin wasn't sick.
They were moving against him already. Faster than expected.
Sera looked up to find Kaelen watching her reaction with sharp focus.
You look devastated, he observed quietly. For someone who's never met Lord Aldwin.
Their eyes locked.
And in that moment, Sera realized the terrible truth:
Duke Kaelen Nightraven was hunting her secrets.
And she was running out of time.