The night smelled like roses… and death.
Seraphina stood still as the maids tightened the last lace of her gown, her fingers cold despite the heat of the candles surrounding her.
"Do not look him in the eyes for too long," one of them whispered.
"Why?" Seraphina asked softly.
The maid hesitated.
"…because those who do never remain the same."
Seraphina said nothing.
Good.
She didn't come here to remain the same.
The palace was louder than a battlefield.
Nobles laughed. Glasses clinked. Musicians played.
But beneath it all… there was fear.
Because tonight—
She was to marry him.
Prince Kael Draven.
The man who never smiled.
The man whispered to have bathed in blood before wearing a crown.
When the doors opened, all eyes turned.
Seraphina stepped in slowly, her veil trailing behind her like a shadow.
And then—
She saw him.
Seated on the throne, dressed in black and gold, his gaze already on her.
Watching.
Waiting.
Like he had been expecting her long before she arrived.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
But it felt like something… shifted.
Something dangerous.
Kael stood.
Silence fell across the hall.
He walked toward her slowly, his boots echoing like a warning.
When he stopped in front of her, he didn't touch her.
Didn't smile.
Didn't greet her.
He simply leaned slightly closer and whispered—
"Tell me, my queen…"
His voice was low. Dark.
"…what exactly did you come here to take from me?"
Seraphina's heart skipped.
Not from fear.
From realization.
He knows.
But instead of stepping back…
She smiled.
Soft.
Controlled.
Deadly.
"And what makes you think," she whispered back,
"…that I came to take anything at all?"
For the first time—
Kael's lips almost curved.
Not into a smile.
Something worse.
"Because," he said quietly,
"everyone who enters this palace…"
His eyes darkened.
"…either wants power… or leaves in pieces."
And somewhere in the crowd—
Lord Alaric watched.
His grip tightening on his cup.
His eyes fixed on Seraphina.
Not with curiosity.
Not with respect.
With hunger.