SERAPHINE'S POV:
The silence in the chamber was suffocating.
Not because it was truly quiet, it wasn't. The fire crackled low in the hearth.
Outside, the wind whistled past the latticed windows.
A quill scratched faintly across parchment, across the long table where Prince Lucien sat… watching me.
Or rather, pretending not to.
His table was a breath away from mine. Facing me directly.
I could feel his eyes even when i wasn't looking.
Like the heat of a flame just past your fingertips, close enough to burn, but never quite touching.
I moved my chopsticks slowly, trying not to glance up.
Trying not to react to the feeling of being observed.
But he wasn't subtle.
Every few seconds, I'd catch the shift of his gaze from parchment to me.
And when our eyes did meet—
He didn't look away.
Not like before.
Not like the cold, ruthless prince who rarely spared me more than a passing glance. No, this version of Lucien watched me as if i might disappear at any moment.
And i couldn't decide which version unsettled me more.
Was he still the same man who ignored me during state banquets and gave curt nods in council chambers?
Was he the one who hadn't even spoken a full sentence to me unless it was out of obligation?
I took a slow breath and glanced down at my tea. The surface rippled faintly. My hand was shaking.
It wasn't just the poison.
It wasn't just the mystery of who had tried to kill me.
It was this… shift. This strange, suffocating softness in Lucien's eyes. He had barely left my side since i awoke two nights ago, pale and disoriented in his bed.
Not mine.
His.
Why?
Why would someone like him, unbothered, unreadable, carry me from the banquet like i was something precious?
I hadn't asked.
He hadn't explained.
And the longer the silence stretched, the more impossible the questions felt.
I picked at the rice on my plate.
This was my first real meal since the poisoning.
Elise had brought me porridge and teas, but this… this felt ceremonial.
A quiet dinner in Lucien's private chamber, his invitation, not the physician's order.
A pause in the storm, yes.
But also a cage i couldn't quite see.
Why am i here?
Not in the palace.
Not in my chamber.
But here.
With him.
He stood.
I looked up instinctively.
He didn't speak, but the legs of his chair scraped softly against the wooden floor. I followed his movement, half-curious, half-tense.
He walked toward the tea set by the window. Steam still curled from the spout.
And then he turned his head slowly and looked at me again.
As if waiting.
I swallowed hard.
What was i supposed to do? Stand? Sit still?
Was this another game? One where i didn't know the rules?
My hands curled into fists beneath the table.
I made a move to rise.
His chair scraped again.
He stood faster than i expected, almost abruptly and i froze halfway up from my seat.
Our eyes locked again.
That look.
Not desire. Not duty.
Something deeper.
Something i couldn't name.
And that frightened me more than i cared to admit.
I slowly lowered myself back down.
He didn't move.
Neither did I.
And then, as if on cue, the door creaked open.
Elise entered, her arms full of dishes still warm from the kitchen.
"You didn't eat much," she murmured gently as she placed them down. "So i brought another tray. His Highness requested it."
Of course he did.
I flicked a glance at him again.
He'd returned to his seat, hands folded, expression unreadable once more.
She laid out the dishes, braised pork, lotus root in sweet vinegar, dumplings laced with ginger.
Enough for two.
Enough for us.
Elise bowed slightly and turned to leave, but not before giving me a subtle, knowing look.
I wanted to roll my eyes.
What did she think was going on?
When the door shut behind her, I sat back stiffly.
Lucien gestured toward the new food.
"Eat," he said quietly. "You'll need strength."
Strength.
For what?
Another day of surviving?
Another day in this strange arrangement?
I didn't respond. But i took another bite, slowly.
We ate in silence.
The first time i had ever shared a table with him in such intimacy.
No nobles. No guards. No endless watchful eyes.
Just us.
But it didn't feel intimate.
It felt dangerous.
Not because of him, but because of what he wasn't saying.
Because of how his gaze followed my every movement.
Because of how little i understood him.
He never once mentioned the poison.
Never once brought up the banquet, or the fact that i nearly died.
But that, in itself, said more than enough.
That night, I waited until the moon climbed above the clouds.
The lanterns in the corridor dimmed.
The wind shifted.
The entire palace seemed to exhale.
I stood before the mirror in Lucien's dressing chamber, my face veiled in black silk, my figure wrapped in midnight hues.
I reached for my sword.
The sheath felt light against my hip.
I had spent two nights in this room recovering.
Too long.
Too vulnerable.
Someone had tried to kill me.
First with a blade, now with poison.
And the worst part?
I didn't know who.
Not the three men i'd escaped last week. Not the ones who'd cornered me in the garden path.
Someone else.
Someone still in the palace.
Still close.
I had questions.
And i wouldn't find answers by sleeping.
I slid open the chamber door.
The hallway stretched ahead, empty. Quiet.
But i didn't make it three steps before—
"Where do you think you're going?"
I froze.
His voice was low.
Too low.
I turned slowly.
Lucien stood in the shadows near the doorway, arms crossed, hair loose, robe dark. No guards. No servants.
Just him.
He stepped forward.
"Go back inside."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can," he said. "You just don't want to."
I clenched my jaw. "Someone tried to kill me. Again."
"I'm aware."
"And you expect me to sleep through that?"
"Yes."
His tone was clipped. Tired. But beneath the coolness was a flicker of something else.
Worry.
Guilt?
I didn't care.
"I won't sit here doing nothing," I said firmly. "So either step aside, or—"
"I'll come with you."
I blinked.
"What?"
"If you insist on playing swords in the dark, I'll at least make sure you don't get yourself killed again."
My eyes narrowed. "You don't have to—"
But he was already walking past me.
"Wait—"
"I'll change," he muttered, disappearing into the next room.
I stood still, stunned.
What was happening?
Why did he care?
Why was he acting like this, like i mattered?
A few minutes later, he returned, dressed in all black, his face half-covered in cloth, sword strapped to his waist.
He looked like a ghost.
A dangerous one.
"Let's go," he said.
I didn't reply.
But i followed him into the night.
The palace rooftops were colder than i expected.
Lucien moved with precision, leaping from tile to tile like he'd done it a thousand times.
He offered me a hand once, but i ignored it.
We said nothing.
Below, the courtyards were empty. The guards rotated at their usual pace. No sign of intruders. No strange shadows. No footprints near the herb gardens where the foxglove might've been picked.
Nothing.
We circled the east wing.
Then the south.
Still nothing.
When we reached the highest point of the west tower, I stopped breathless, frustrated.
Lucien turned to me.
"See? There's no one. No trail. Whoever it was, they're gone."
"Or they're watching us," I muttered. "Waiting."
"You're not bait."
"I never said i was."
"But you're acting like it."
I turned away, jaw tight.
He stepped closer.
"Seraphine—"
"I need to know," I snapped. "Don't you see that? If i don't find out who did it, I'll never sleep again. I'll never breathe easy again."
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Let's try the northern kitchens," he said. "If poison was used, someone had to mix it. Maybe something slipped."
We moved again, quieter this time.
But the silence between us wasn't peaceful.
It buzzed with everything unspoken.
We found nothing.
No herbs missing. No traces left behind.
Nothing but shadow and cold stone.
We stood near the archway of the central pavilion, preparing to climb back up when my foot slipped, just slightly on the damp edge of the tiled roof.
Lucien turned.
"Careful—"
Too late.
The edge gave way beneath me.
My body pitched forward.
But i didn't fall.
Not completely.
His arm caught me midair, dragging me flush against him.
And then—
A crack.
A stumble.
We both lost balance.
He hit the lower ledge first.
I landed on top of him, breath knocked from my lungs.
And our lips—
met.
Soft.
Unplanned.
Shocking.
For one still moment, everything paused.
His breath was warm against my mouth.
His hand still gripped my waist.
My heart hammered wildly in my chest and i hated that i wasn't sure if it was from fear…
Or something else.
I pulled away instantly, gasping.
"I—I didn't mean—"
"I know," he said softly, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. "Neither did I."
We stared at each other.
No words.
Just breath and silence.
And the quiet truth hanging between us like fog:
Something had changed.
Whether we wanted it to or not.