The palace halls had never been louder.
And Seraphina was the center of it all.
Her boots echoed across marble drenched in whispers. Servants rushed behind velvet curtains to avoid eye contact. Nobles gasped in corners. Her sisters were probably shrieking somewhere in a corridor. And through it all, the Veilfire Crown still sat atop her head-glowing faintly, pulsing warm against her skull like it had no regrets.
She had a hundred.
The moment she stepped past the throne room doors, twenty heads turned toward her.
None were friendly.
"Lady Valemire," a court scribe barked, "do not move, you are in breach of succession law-"
"She's a not fitting for the role!"
"This is heresy-!"
"She bewitched it. It's fire magic-"
"Enough," came a voice like a blade drawn in velvet.
Everyone froze.
Queen Dowager Isolde stood at the far end of the chamber, draped in mourning gray, spine straight as a sword. Her pale gaze swept across the nobles like frost through glass.
"Unless any of you can lift the crown from her head, I suggest you shut your mouths and breathe through your jealousy."
Seraphina blinked. Well then.
Across the room, Prince Cassian leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Still in full uniform, his black hair glinted under the golden chandeliers, and his light-gray eyes locked onto hers with cool calculation.
He hadn't said a word since the ballroom.
But his silence was loud.
Suddenly, a fist slammed against the arm of the throne.
The King.
Cassian's father, King Alaric, rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it struck like thunder. Sharp-jawed and sharp-tempered, he was the image of strength-except for the vein throbbing near his temple.
"This is unacceptable," he growled. "The relic made a mistake."
"With respect," Dowager Isolde murmured without looking at him, "you're assuming a thousand-year-old sentient artifact made an error... rather than admitting your throne just got outsmarted by a girl in red."
Seraphina bit back a snort. Bad time for comedy, brain.
King Alaric turned to his son. "Cassian."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You will fix this. Get the crown removed. Have the relic re-tested. We'll host another ceremony. Invite House Marrow's girl-she has lineage on her side-"
Cassian's voice was low. "The relic has chosen."
"What?"
He straightened, finally stepping toward the center of the room. The space seemed to shift with him. "If we reject it now, we risk backlash from every House that believes the Crown is sacred. The war factions would see it as proof that the court is rigged. And the relic itself may curse the throne."
"So we bend to a fire girl's accident?!"
"She didn't choose it," Cassian said. His gaze slid to Seraphina. "It chose her."
Seraphina raised a brow. So he speaks.
A moment passed.
Then Isolde smiled-only slightly. "A marriage would solve the chaos."
Silence crashed through the chamber like glass shattering.
Seraphina choked. "Excuse me?"
King Alaric snapped his head toward her. "You will watch your tongue in this court, girl."
Seraphina bristled. "You mean the court I apparently now rule over?"
Gasps.
Isolde looked delighted.
The King's eyes burned. "The relic may grant power, but you are not queen yet. And you will never be without a husband deemed suitable by the crown. If the court must stomach this humiliation, we will at least contain the damage."
He turned to Cassian.
"You will marry her."
Cassian stared straight ahead. "Understood."
The words hit Seraphina like a slap. Cold. Controlled. As if he were agreeing to attend a funeral.
"No," she said immediately, "I didn't sign up to marry ice prince incarnate."
Cassian finally turned to face her. "Nor I to marry a walking fire hazard."
Their gazes locked-blazing and frigid.
"Oh," Seraphina said sweetly, "we're going to have so much fun together."
The Queen Dowager's chuckle echoed in the silence like thunder rolling in.
✦ LATER THAT NIGHT ✦
Their engagement was announced in the Royal Courtyard two hours later.
Cassian stood beside her in formal military attire, jaw locked, every inch of him screaming control. Seraphina smiled wide for the crowd, every tooth sharp.
"Smile," she whispered through clenched teeth, "you're engaged to your favorite disaster."
"I am smiling," Cassian muttered back. "This is my happy face."
"Could've fooled the statue behind us."
"Would you prefer I throw you in the dungeon?"
"I'd prefer wine."
From a distance, they looked perfect-flame and frost, strength and chaos, future king and reluctant queen.
But up close?
It was a battlefield in wedding clothes.
✦
The grand dining hall of the palace glowed with too much gold and too many eyes.
Thirty seats.
Two noble families.
One painfully long table.
And Seraphina... was regretting everything.
The chairs were carved from dragonwood, embroidered in the royal colors-white and gold with blue ice trim-and the moment she sat, she could feel the tension seep into her spine like cold water. Across the table, her parents were all stiff smiles and proud stares. Her sisters sparkled in passive-aggressive envy. And Thane, sweet Thane, had already stolen a sugar biscuit and was hiding it under the napkin in his lap like a goblin.
The royal family, meanwhile, looked like they'd rather be sitting on swords.
King Alaric was silent at the head of the table, hands clasped like a judge ready to deliver sentence. Queen Dowager Isolde sat a few seats down, swirling her wine with idle amusement as if this were a theatrical performance she herself had written. Cassian's chair was beside Seraphina's, naturally-because fate, apparently, had a sense of humor.
Dinner began with no fanfare. Only the soft clink of silverware and the unbearable silence of two powerful families trying not to rip each other apart with magic.
Seraphina stared at her soup.
Cassian didn't look at her.
Which, frankly, offended her more than if he had.
She leaned sideways. "Is this poisoned?"
He didn't blink. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd do it with less subtlety."
"Romantic."
"Survivalist."
She arched a brow. "You do know you're stuck with me now, right?"
"I haven't forgotten."
"Good. Then stop acting like I'm a stray mutt that followed you home."
He finally turned his head, gray eyes like sharpened frost. "A mutt would be less temperamental."
She smiled sweetly. "And an icicle would be more fun at parties."
"Children," Queen Dowager Isolde said from across the table without looking up, "if you're going to bicker, do it quietly. Your insults lack refinement."
✦
The clatter of a dropped spoon broke the silence. Odessa, Seraphina's eldest sister, recovered it with grace and venom.
"We're honored," she said, voice syrupy and fake, "to have Seraphina join the royal family. She's always had such a... bold sense of timing."
Calista added, "And wardrobe."
Thane leaned across the table. "I liked the fireball part."
"You would," muttered Odessa.
The King finally spoke. "Let's not pretend this is ideal."
A chill swept through the room like a gust of cold wind. The King's voice was steady, but beneath it was a warning meant for one person in particular.
Seraphina looked up.
"You may have the crown on your head," he said, eyes locked on her like a hawk to prey, "but don't mistake that for actual power. The relic is sacred, not infallible. We are allowing you into this court. You are a guest in our world."
Seraphina met his gaze head-on.
"Then perhaps your world should start treating its guests with basic courtesy."
Her mother inhaled sharply. Her father touched her wrist. But Seraphina didn't lower her chin, not even an inch.
Queen Dowager Isolde looked positively thrilled.
"She's got teeth," she murmured. "Good. The court will try to eat her alive."
Cassian shifted beside her, his arm brushing hers accidentally as he reached for his goblet. She immediately leaned away.
He noticed. And leaned back just the tiniest bit farther.
✦
After the main course, the Queen Dowager set her goblet down.
"Now, onto protocol."
Seraphina tensed.
"You'll remain in the palace starting tomorrow. You'll be assigned a royal etiquette instructor, a mage to refine your abilities, and a political strategist."
Her parents went still.
"Pardon?" Lady Valemire asked.
"She will not return home," Queen Isolde said with finality. "She belongs to the palace now. That is how this works."
"Is this really necessary-?" her father began.
"Absolutely," the Queen Dowager said. "She cannot rule if she acts like a wildfire on legs. We'll smooth her edges before the coronation."
"Or burn the palace down trying," Cassian muttered.
Seraphina elbowed him in the ribs.
He didn't even flinch. "Didn't feel it."
"Then I'll aim lower next time."
✦
Dessert was served: layered moonfruit tart with sugar glaze. Thane eagerly accepted two slices. Odessa poked hers with disdain. Calista pretended not to be watching every breath Seraphina took.
Across from her, Cassian finally addressed her directly. His voice was quiet, but sharp.
"You're not ready for this life."
She didn't hesitate. "Good thing I don't need your approval."
"Approval? No. But respect is earned."
Seraphina smirked. "You mean like I earned this crown?"
His jaw tightened.
Across the table, Queen Isolde raised a brow. "They're flirting," she told no one in particular.
"They're fighting," King Alaric corrected, grim.
"Same thing, at their age."
✦
By the end of the evening, Seraphina had survived a royal dinner, three passive-aggressive jabs from her sisters, one full political threat from the King, a dozen protocol warnings, and an hour of sitting beside the most emotionally constipated prince in the continent.
She considered that a success.
When the families stood to depart, Thane rushed over and hugged her waist.
"You're gonna be Queen," he whispered, eyes wide with joy. "Like, actual queen."
She tousled his hair, her voice softer than it had been all night.
"Maybe. If I don't burn the palace down first."
"You better not," he grinned. "I want a crown too."
"Done," she whispered. "I'll make you one out of biscuit crumbs."
✦
As the Valemire family exited the room, Seraphina turned back for one last glance. Her sisters had their arms looped together, whispering furiously. Her parents exchanged tense words with the Queen Dowager.
And Cassian?
He stood beneath the chandelier, arms behind his back, head turned slightly toward her.
He said nothing.
But for just a heartbeat, their eyes met again.
Flame. Ice.
A storm in waiting.
And then she walked away.