The ornate mirror in Seraphina's chambers reflected a woman who no longer recognized herself.
Her usually perfect curls had come undone at the ends, her lips were pressed in a thin line, and her carefully composed eyes had lost their sparkle.
She stared at her reflection, willing herself to find the confidence she once wore like a second skin.
But all she could see was doubt.
Theodore's words from earlier still echoed in her mind.
"You might be surprised…"
"Snake," Seraphina hissed under her breath, picking up her silver-handled brush and slamming it against the vanity.
The truth was....he had gotten under her skin.
He wasn't wrong. Nothing had been finalized. Darius hadn't made a public declaration.
Yes, the council whispered her name with hope and Lady Arabella had already begun making plans for the wedding feast in her mind, but none of it meant anything unless the king opened his mouth and named her in front of all of Silvervale.
And Darius… Darius hadn't done that.
Not yet.
In fact, he hadn't done much of anything recently except distance himself further.
He no longer joined her for tea in the afternoon. He no longer asked for her opinion about the birthday celebration.
He no longer looked at her the way he did when she first arrived in the castle....curious, intrigued, maybe even a little amused.
Now, there was nothing. Cold silence. Politely curt nods. And eyes that always seemed to be searching for something that wasn't her or someone.
She pushed away from the vanity and stood. The silk gown she wore brushed the marble floor, trailing behind her like royalty....but today, it felt more like a costume.
"I am the future queen," she reminded herself, walking to the balcony, flinging the doors open.
The castle courtyard below was alive with movement....servants preparing banners, guests being received by the guards, musicians rehearsing.
Five days. Only five days until the grand ball.
And still no word from Darius.
Seraphina gripped the balcony railing.
"I've done everything right," she muttered. "I've been obedient. Polished. Loyal. What more does he want?"
A knock echoed through the chamber doors, sharp and hesitant.
"Come in," she called, still not turning.
A maid entered, curtseying. The maid her dear mother gifted her.
"My lady, Lady Arabella sent a note for you."
"Leave it on the table," Seraphina said without looking.
The girl hesitated. "She also said… you should remain composed. That the council is watching."
Seraphina turned slowly, her gaze narrowed. "Did she?"
The maid nodded quickly, placed the letter down, and hurried out.
Seraphina crossed the room, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the wax seal. Her mother's handwriting was impeccable, as always.
My darling daughter,
Remember who you are. Do not let your emotions control you. A crown is not won through tantrums. If Darius pulls away, pull harder. Make yourself irreplaceable.
You were born for this. Do not forget it.
Arabella.
Seraphina crumpled the letter in her fist.
Pull harder? Make myself irreplaceable?
How? When Darius barely even acknowledged her presence anymore?
She paced the room, her mind spinning. There had to be a reason. Some logical explanation for why he was changing. Could it be stress? The approaching celebration? Or…
Was there someone else?
The thought stopped her cold.
"No," she whispered. "No, that's not possible."
But the idea had taken root.
Darius had barely spoken to her in two days. She had caught him twice on the west wing balcony, standing there like a man haunted, staring into the horizon with eyes full of storms.
She'd approached him once, only for him to walk away the moment she stepped close.
And then, the rumors.
Whispers from the servants. A mysterious woman seen near the market. A scent Darius had been tracking with increasing agitation. He'd ordered more guards to patrol the castle boundaries. Something had happened that he wasn't sharing with her.
Something... or someone.
Seraphina clenched her fists.
No. She wouldn't lose. Not after everything.
Not to some nameless girl hiding in the shadows.
"Enough is enough," she said aloud, storming to her wardrobe.
She flung open the doors and yanked out her boldest dress....a crimson gown laced with black velvet and a plunging neckline. It was the one she had worn on her name-day celebration, the one that had silenced a room.
She would make Darius see her again.
Make him remember who he had chosen.
And if there was someone else?
She would burn the very thought of that girl out of his mind.
*******
Later that evening…
The castle dining hall was buzzing with early guests. Nobles from the distant parts of Silvervale had arrived, their laughter echoing through the stone corridors.
Darius wasn't seated at the high table yet.
Good.
Seraphina entered like a storm draped in silk and venom. Heads turned. Whispers followed. Her hair was coiled into an elegant twist, adorned with black diamonds. Her lips were painted the color of blood and victory.
She smiled at every noble who greeted her but said nothing meaningful. Her eyes were trained on the archway where Darius would eventually appear.
And then.....he did.
He was dressed in deep obsidian black, a stark contrast to the gold embellishments of the room. A high-collared coat hugged his broad shoulders, and his silver circlet gleamed under the chandeliers. His expression was unreadable, carved from ice and stone.
His hair was tousled like he'd been running.....or perhaps shifting....and his gaze scanned the room, distracted, unbothered.
Until it landed on her.
Seraphina straightened, chin lifted.
For a fleeting second, their eyes locked.
And in that second, she saw the storm behind his stare.
Not love. Not awe. Not admiration.
Conflict.
Darius gave her the briefest of nods before looking away and taking his place at the head of the table.
Her fingers tightened around the goblet in front of her.
He didn't even smile.
What in the goddess's name was going on with him?
But Seraphina didn't show it. She sat tall, smiled sweetly at the nobles who congratulated her on "her coming coronation," and laughed when prompted.
She played her part flawlessly.
But inside, something was unraveling.
Because a queen who wasn't loved by her king?
Was still just a lady in waiting.