LUCIEN'S POV:
It happened fast.
Too fast.
One second, she was lifting the goblet.
The next—
Her fingers loosened.
The cup slipped from her grasp, red wine spilling across the white silk of her sleeve like blood blooming on snow.
Then her body swayed.
"Seraphine."
I barely said her name before she collapsed.
She crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. Her head fell back at an unnatural angle, and I was out of my seat before anyone else moved.
"Seraphine!"
The music stopped.
A scream tore through the air.
Plates clattered.
I caught her just before she hit the floor. Her body was limp in my arms, her skin already cold.
Not drunk.
Not faint.
Poison.
The coppery scent hit me even before the panic did.
"Move!" I barked, shoving aside a servant who stepped into my path.
"Someone call the Imperial Physician—now!"
Faces blurred around me as i gathered her closer.
Her hair spilled over my shoulder.
Her lashes didn't flutter. She didn't stir.
A chill split my chest clean in half.
"Lucien, what's happening?" The Queen's voice reached me faintly from behind, but i didn't answer.
"GET. OUT. OF. THE. WAY."
Everyone parted.
Even the guards.
Even the Emperor.
I carried her out of the Great Hall, her breath shallow and ragged in my ear.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Not today.
Not now.
Her birthday gift to the King still lay unopened at the table.
I didn't stop until i reached the corridor outside my private wing.
"Open the chamber," I growled at the guards. "Now."
They obeyed instantly, and i stormed through, laying her gently on my bed.
Her lips were pale.
Her pulse faint.
Her hand didn't tighten around mine.
"Seraphine. Stay with me."
My voice didn't sound like mine.
Not the Crown Prince.
Not the soldier.
Just a man.
Falling apart.
"Where is the physician?!"
The doors burst open.
"Your Highness!" the physician panted.
"She's been poisoned," I said sharply. "She drank the wine. She collapsed within seconds."
He moved quickly, grinding herbs, heating tinctures, muttering instructions to his aides.
But my hands were useless.
Cold. Shaking.
The woman i spent months trying not to want might not survive the night.
"She's resisting," the physician muttered. "But her heart… it's slowing."
No.
"She needs to vomit. Then the antidote must be given directly. Hold her upright."
I pulled her into my arms again.
Her body was ice.
"Forgive me, Your Highness," the physician whispered. He slid a wooden stick gently between her teeth and pressed down.
She jerked.
Not awake.
Not conscious.
But her body reacted.
Then—
She choked.
The poison came up, violent and dark. It stained the sheets. Soaked my sleeves. She trembled until she could barely lift her head.
"Good," the physician whispered. "Now."
He poured a thick elixir between her lips, steady and slow.
Then—silence.
The fire crackled.
Her breathing rasped.
And i didn't let go of her.
Not even when the physician finally leaned back and said, "She will live."
The air punched out of my chest.
"But the next hours are critical. If her fever spikes, or her heart fails again—"
"Go," I said. "Leave us."
He hesitated.
"Now."
The doors closed softly behind him.
I cleaned her mouth.
Changed the sheets.
Wiped her forehead.
Held her upright through a second wave of coughing.
She whispered my name once, barely audible.
Lucien.
Like a prayer.
Like a curse.
And i knew.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
We were never meant to care.
This marriage was built on ash and politics.
Sealed with ink, not affection.
But still—
She was the only one who ever made me feel like i wasn't just a crown.
And i tried.
I tried not to want her.
Not because of my parents.
Not because of duty.
But because…
Every timei looked at her, I remembered the war.
My soldiers lying cold in the snow.
My uncle's body burned beyond recognition.
My grandmother's final breath, stolen by the very blade her father commanded.
I knew it wasn't her fault.
She didn't lead the battalions.
She never lifted a sword.
She was a diplomat's daughter, then a princess on the run.
But faces don't need to be guilty to become reminders.
She looked like the people i fought.
Spoke with the same clipped accent.
Even her perfume reminded me of their war camps, the strange spice they used in everything, sweet and sharp like smoke and dried petals.
The first time i saw her, I didn't see a woman.
I saw a warning.
And as weeks passed, I told myself i was only watching her because i didn't trust her.
Not because her voice stayed in my head hours after she spoke.
Not because i memorized the way she braided her hair when she thought no one was looking.
Not because i started walking the long way to the council hall, just to pass by her window.
I told myself i was guarding the enemy.
But she never acted like a princess.
Not the kind the public fawned over.
She didn't smile in court.
Didn't bow her head in submission.
Didn't chase approval like the other royals did.
She walked through the palace halls like a ghost made of steel.
Quiet.
Watchful.
Unreachable.
People whispered that she was cold. Arrogant. Dangerous.
Some flinched when she passed.
Even the guards, hardened men who'd seen war, stood a little straighter around her.
Like they weren't sure if she'd draw a blade or issue a decree that could ruin them.
And maybe i believed the worst, too, in the beginning.
After all, she was the enemy's daughter.
Raised in the same castle that once ordered the deaths of my kin.
How could i not resent her?
But then i started noticing things i wasn't supposed to.
Like how she never slept without a sword under her hip.
Or how she always sat with her back to the wall, as if expecting someone to attack.
And i began to wonder…
What did she survive?
What did she bury deep enough that even she couldn't look it in the eye?
Because no one wore armor like that without reason.
No one builds walls that high unless they once bled alone.
And maybe that's what unnerved me the most.
Not her title. Not her bloodline. Not her reputation.
But the way she seemed carved out of grief i couldn't name.
And still—
Even when i told myself i hated her.
Even when i reminded myself that i had every right to.
And now she lay here, nearly lost, and I realized...
I didn't care what blood ran in her veins.
I just wanted her to live.
I rested my hand against her cheek. Her skin was warmer now. The worst had passed.
"Sleep," I whispered. "You're safe now."
But she wasn't.
Because whoever did this was still inside the palace.
And this wasn't a random attack.
This was a message.
A threat.
A warning to her—
and a challenge to me.
I stood.
"Send for General Hai," I told the guards. "And find out every servant who touched the wine tonight. Start with the western wing."
They bowed.
Rushed off.
And i walked down the corridor like a man with nothing left to lose.
They wanted Seraphine gone?
They should've killed me first.