Cadmus POV
I watch my fake bride's face turn white as snow.
The runner is smiling like a cat that caught a mouse. The entire court leans forward, hungry for her failure. They want to see the human princess break. They want blood.
My dragon stirs inside my chest. Angry. Protective.
I shove those thoughts down hard.
"The letters," the messenger repeats. "Surely you remember what your mother told you, Princess Seraphina?"
She opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.
This is it. She's going to crack. She's going to admit right here, in front of everyone, and this whole mess will explode in my face.
Part of me should want that. Should want the truth revealed so I can end this farce.
But another part—the part linked to my dragon—wants to shield her. Wants to burn anyone who threatens her.
Which is completely crazy.
Before she can speak, I move.
"Enough." My voice cuts through the throne room like a blade. "My wife has had a long trip and an exhausting ceremony. Your questions can wait until morning."
The messenger's smile falters. "But Your Majesty—"
"Are you questioning your king?" I let my eyes glow brighter. Let him see the dragon hiding just beneath my skin.
He backs up fast. "No, of course not, I just—"
"Good. Lyra will show you to guest rooms. You'll have your crowd tomorrow. After my wife has rested."
I don't wait for his answer. I grab Elara's arm and pull her toward the side exit. She's shaking so hard I can feel it through her sleeve.
The moment we're alone in the hallway, she starts crying.
Actual tears running down her face. Her breathing comes in gasps.
"Thank you," she chokes out. "Thank you, I thought—I didn't know what to—"
"Stop." I release her arm. "Don't thank me. I didn't save you out of kindness."
She wipes her eyes, smearing tears across her face. "Then why?"
"Because if you break now, in front of everyone, it makes me look weak. Like I can't control my own wife." I cross my arms. "And I don't do weak."
It's a lie. My dragon knows it's a lie. But I can't accept the real reason—that seeing her cornered made every protective instinct I have roar to life.
She nods slowly, trying to compose herself. "What happens tomorrow? When they ask again?"
"Tomorrow, you'd better have a convincing answer." I study her face—those strange violet eyes, now puffy from crying. "Or this all ends badly."
"I don't know anything about Queen Blackwell's letters," she whispers. "I don't know what problem they're talking about. I don't—"
"Then you'll learn." I start walking, and she hurries to follow. "You have until dawn."
"How am I going to—" "Figure it out. That's what real princesses do, isn't it?" I look back at her. "They solve problems."
We reach my private study again. I unlock the door and wave inside.
She hesitates. "What are we doing here?"
"Training." I close the door behind us. "If you're going to live even a week in this palace, you need to stop being so obvious. Your lies are terrible. Your acting is worse. And every time someone asks you, you look like you're about to faint."
"I'm sorry," she says quietly.
"Stop apologizing." I move to my desk and pull out a stack of books. "Here are your tasks, Princess. If you want me to keep your secret while I figure out what game your kingdom is playing, you'll complete them all."
She stares at the books. "What tasks?"
"First: learn our language. Dragons don't speak human common tongue in secret. You have one week to become fluent enough to understand simple conversations."
Her eyes go big. "One week? That's impossible!"
" Second:" I continue, ignoring her protest. "Navigate the Court of Beasts without insulting anyone. The beast shifters are our friends, but they're easily offended. One wrong word and they'll challenge you to single battle."
"I can't fight!"
"Third: survive dinner with my generals. All of them." I smile without fun. "They consider people a delicacy. Literally. They'll be testing whether you're fit to sit at my table or better served on a platter."
She backs up until she hits the wall. "You're trying to kill me."
"No." I step closer. "I'm trying to see what you're made of. Because right now, you're just a scared girl wearing a princess's clothes. If you want to live here—if you want me to protect your secrets—you need to become someone worth protecting."
Tears fill her eyes again, but this time she doesn't let them fall. She lifts her chin, and I see something spark behind the fear.
Steel. Determination. Fire.
"I won't fail," she whispers.
My dragon purrs. Actually purrs like a happy cat.
I ignore it. "We'll see."
"When do I start?"
"Now." I look at the books. "You have six days, twenty-three hours until your first test. I suggest you don't sleep."
She moves to the desk, picks up the first book with shaking hands. Opens it. Stares at the dragon script inside.
"I don't understand any of this," she says.
"Then you'd better learn fast."
I turn to leave, but her voice stops me.
"Why are you doing this?" she asks. "If you know I'm not really Seraphina, why not just reveal me? Why give me a chance?"
I look back at her. At this small, frightened, brave girl who smells like lavender and makes my dragon lose its mind.
"Because," I say slowly, "I want to know why your kingdom sent you here to die. And you're more useful to me alive."
It's not the whole truth. But it's all I'm ready to admit.
I leave her there with the impossible tasks, the ticking clock, and no chance of success.
But as I walk away, I hear her start reading aloud. Stumbling over dragon words. Trying.
My dragon purrs again, louder this time.
"Shut up," I say to it.
It doesn't listen.
I'm halfway to my rooms when Lyra appears from the shadows. She looks worried.
"We have a problem," she says.
"Another one?"
"The southern messenger? I had my spies follow him to his room." She lowers her voice. "He sent a raven back to the human land. The message said: 'The swap was successful. The bastard is in place. Proceed with phase two.'"
My blood runs cold. "Phase two?"
"I don't know what it means. But Cadmus—" She grabs my arm. "Whatever they're planning, that girl in your study is part of it. And I don't think she even knows."
Before I can reply, a servant runs up, breathless and terrified.
"Your Majesty! The prison guards—Princess Seraphina—the real princess—"
"What about her?"
His face goes pale. "She's escaped."