The note sat untouched on the pillow, its five words echoing louder than the applause from the gathering hours earlier.
'You're not done yet, sister.'
Lilith stared at it, her fingers brushing the edge of the parchment as if it might burn her. The handwriting was unmistakable—Ophelia's. Elegant, deliberate, and laced with venom. But this time, it didn't feel like a threat. It felt like a reminder.
She folded the note carefully and tucked it into the drawer beside her bed. No need to show Rafael. Not yet.
Outside, the estate had quieted. The guests had departed under moonlight and guarded escort, their expressions unreadable, their loyalties still uncertain. But the gathering had done its job.
Lilith had been seen, heard, believed.
For now.
Rafael entered her quarters without knocking, his jacket slung over one shoulder, the tension in his posture finally beginning to ease. "You did well," he said, voice low. "They're talking. Some are already changing sides."
Lilith nodded, her gaze distant. "That's what they came for. To see if I could hold the room."
"You didn't just hold it," he said. "You owned it." A smile etched in his face.
She offered a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "That's the easy part—the hard part is keeping it."
Rafael stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "We'll keep it. Together."
She leaned into his touch, just slightly, allowing herself the moment..the calm. Submitting to the illusion of safety for a short bit.
But her mind was already elsewhere, for everything that happened wouldn't have happened had she not met this man again.
Ophelia's note, the anonymous message, the masked envoy...Vesper's warning.
There were too many players. Too many motives.
And one lie that had become a crown—one that would shackle her.
Later that evening, Lilith walked the eastern gardens alone. The moon was high, casting silver across the stone paths and hedges. The air was cool, fragrant with night blooms. It was peaceful.
But peace, she learned, could only be achieved after a great feat.
She paused by the old fountain, its waters still and clear. Her reflection stared back—she looked poised and regal, as if nothing affected her these past few days.
She didn't recognize herself.
A rustle in the hedges made her turn, hand instinctively reaching for the blade tucked beneath her sleeve.
But it was only a maid, bowing low, delivering a sealed envelope.
"No crest," he said. "It just arrived by courier, and there is no name."
Lilith took it. She waited until she was alone again before breaking the seal.
Inside was a single page.
"The Marchesi heir is not who you think. Trust no one wearing your blood."
She read it twice. Then again.
The handwriting was different. Not Ophelia's. Not the masked envoy's. Someone else. Someone watching from the margins.
She folded the note and slipped it into her coat.
She hadn't told Rafael. Not because she didn't trust him—but because she needed to think. To breathe. To understand what Ophelia was really saying.
The estate had quieted, but not in the way it had before. This time, it was the hush of aftermath of choices made and consequences waiting to unfold.
Lilith stood in the eastern garden, the wind teasing strands of her hair loose from the braid she'd worn all day. The silk of her gown clung to her skin, still warm from the gathering, from the eyes that had watched her, weighed her, measured her worth.
She didn't feel like a queen. She felt like a woman who had survived too many endings—rather than a queen, she felt more like a caged bird.
Rafael approached without sound, his steps practiced. He didn't speak right away. Just stood beside her, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was beginning to dip.
"You were brilliant today," he said finally, voice low.
Lilith didn't answer. She didn't feel the need to. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly as if bracing for something.
"I know what it cost you," he added.
She turned to him, slowly. "Do you?"
Rafael met her eyes. "I know what it cost me not to be there when it mattered."
That stopped her. The wind stilled. Her breath caught.
"I should've found you sooner," he said. "I Should've fought harder...I...Should've asked the right questions instead of trusting the wrong people."
Lilith was quiet.
He stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. "I don't want survival anymore. I want to be with you."
She looked up at him, eyes searching. "Even if it's life and death with me?"
"If it's with you," he said, "then yes."
Her breath trembled. Her resolve wavered. It was as if being with this man for long completely shifted her personality 180.
"I don't know how to be soft with you," she admitted. "Not after everything."
Rafael reached out, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "Then be sharp. I'll bleed for it."
She laughed softly, and then she leaned into him, forehead resting against his chest, letting herself be held.
They stood like that for a long time, the garden quiet around them, the world momentarily distant.
But even in that stillness, Lilith knew peace was a borrowed thing.
She would have to fight again.
They both would.
But for now, the only comfort was that they had each other.
And that was enough to begin.