Seraphina's POV
"Stop the ceremony!" I scream, lunging toward the altar where the poisoned chalice sits. "Don't let anyone drink—"
Elena moves faster than I thought possible. She slams into me, and we both crash to the temple floor. The knife in her hand flashes toward my throat.
Commander Aldric's sword blocks it just in time, metal ringing against metal.
"Guards!" he roars. "Lock down the ceremony hall! No one drinks from that chalice!"
Elena kicks him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. She's stronger than she looks—much stronger.
"You don't understand," Elena hisses at me, pinning me down. "This has to happen. The Emperor must fall. My brother is the rightful—"
I knee her in the stomach and roll away. "Your brother can get in line like everyone else!"
The temple doors burst open and imperial guards flood in. But Elena is already running, disappearing through a hidden passage behind the altar.
"After her!" Commander Aldric commands, but half his men are already chasing her into the darkness.
I scramble to my feet and grab the poisoned chalice, carefully holding it by the base. The wine inside looks normal, but I can see a strange shimmer on the rim—like oil on water.
"The High Priestess," I gasp, turning to where she fell. "Is she—"
"Still alive. Barely." A guard is pressing cloth to her wounds. "She needs a healer immediately."
The ceremony bells ring louder, more urgent. Through the temple windows, I can see crowds gathering in the ceremonial courtyard. The other nineteen brides will be walking out any second.
Walking straight toward their deaths.
"We need to stop the ceremony," I tell Commander Aldric. "Right now."
"Already done." He wipes blood from his sword. "I sent word to cancel immediately."
But even as he says it, I hear gasps and screams from outside.
We rush to the window and my heart stops.
The ceremony is starting anyway.
Nineteen girls in white dresses stand in a perfect circle around a raised platform. Court nobles fill the viewing stands. And Emperor Cassian sits on a throne at the center, his face carved from ice.
"Why didn't they stop?" I whisper in horror.
"Someone countermanded my order." Commander Aldric's jaw clenches. "Someone with higher authority than mine."
"But the only person with higher authority than the Emperor's personal guard is—"
"The Emperor himself." His eyes meet mine, dark with suspicion. "Or someone pretending to speak for him."
We watch in horror as an elderly priest walks onto the platform carrying a ceremonial chalice. Not the poisoned one—that's still in my hands. But it looks identical.
"They have a replacement cup," I realize. "Elena wasn't working alone. Someone else knew about the poison and had a backup plan."
The priest raises the false chalice high. "We are gathered to witness the Emperor's selection! Twenty noble daughters have come to offer themselves as the imperial bride. But His Majesty has already chosen."
The crowd murmurs excitedly.
"Lady Seraphina Ashford of the Silver Creek Territory will be our Empress!"
Gasps and whispers explode through the courtyard. I can see the other nineteen brides' faces twist with shock and rage.
"However," the priest continues, "tradition demands that all candidates must drink from the imperial chalice to seal the ceremony. Each bride will take one sip, showing their acceptance of the Emperor's choice."
No. No, this can't happen.
"We have to get down there," I grab Commander Aldric's arm. "Now!"
We run from the temple, the poisoned chalice still in my hands. My mind races. If the cup on the platform is also poisoned, then all nineteen girls will die when they drink.
But if it's not poisoned, then why have a fake ceremony at all?
Unless...
Unless the killer wants me to rush down there and expose myself. Wants me to reveal that I know about the poison.
It's a trap. For me.
But I can't let innocent girls die just to save myself.
We burst into the ceremonial courtyard, and thousands of eyes turn to stare at me. I'm still in my half-dressed state, hair undone, no makeup. I look like a crazy person.
Perfect.
"Stop!" I shout, holding up the real chalice. "That cup is fake! This is the true imperial chalice!"
Confused silence.
Then the priest on the platform smiles coldly. "My dear Lady Seraphina. How... dramatic. But I assure you, this is the ceremonial cup prepared by the High Priestess herself."
"The High Priestess is dying in the temple with a knife wound!" I climb onto the platform, ignoring the shocked gasps. "Someone tried to poison all of us!"
"Preposterous!" A woman's voice calls from the crowd. I turn to see an elegant lady in purple robes standing. "The girl is clearly hysterical. Perhaps the stress of being chosen has broken her mind."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the nobles.
"Lady Seraphina." Emperor Cassian finally speaks, his voice cold and commanding. "You are making a scene."
I stare at him. His gray eyes are completely blank, showing nothing.
Is he angry? Does he think I'm lying? Or is he playing along with some plan I don't understand?
"Your Majesty," I say carefully. "I have proof that—"
"Enough." He stands, and everyone immediately falls silent. "If you claim that chalice is poisoned, prove it."
The priest smiles wider. "Yes, my lady. Prove it. Drink from the cup yourself."
It's a challenge. A dare.
If I drink from the poisoned chalice, I'll die in front of everyone. If I refuse, I look like a liar and a coward.
Either way, I lose.
I look at the cup in my hands. The shimmer on the rim catches the moonlight—poison activated by moonlight, the High Priestess said.
The moon is full tonight.
"Well?" The priest's voice is mocking. "We're waiting."
I meet Emperor Cassian's eyes across the platform. He gives the tiniest shake of his head. A warning.
Don't drink it.
But if I don't, those nineteen girls will. And they'll die.
I make my choice.
I raise the chalice to my lips—
And Victoria Ashton suddenly screams.
"She's going to poison herself to frame us! Don't let her do it!"
Several noble ladies rush toward me. In the chaos, someone grabs the chalice from my hands.
It's Catherine Marlowe, the red-haired girl from earlier.
"If this cup is truly poisoned," Catherine says loudly, "then I'll prove it's safe."
Before anyone can stop her, she drinks deeply from the chalice.
"Catherine, no!" I lunge for her, but it's too late.
She lowers the cup and smiles triumphantly at me. "See? Perfectly fine. You're nothing but a liar trying to—"
Her words cut off. Her eyes go wide.
Black veins start spreading across her face like cracks in porcelain.
"What..." She drops the chalice, and it shatters on the stone. "What's happening to me?"
She falls to her knees, gasping. Blood starts pouring from her nose and mouth.
The crowd erupts in screams.
"POISON!" someone shouts. "The cup was poisoned!"
Catherine collapses completely, convulsing. Her beautiful red hair spreads around her like blood.
I drop beside her, trying to help, but I don't know how. I don't know what to do.
"Someone get a healer!" I scream. "Please, she's dying!"
But I can see it's already too late. The poison works fast—just like it did when it killed me in my first life.
Catherine's eyes meet mine one last time. "You... tried to... warn us..." she whispers.
Then her eyes go blank and she stops breathing.
Dead.
The first victim of the night.
And judging by the chaos erupting around me, she won't be the last.
Emperor Cassian is suddenly beside me, pulling me to my feet. "We need to leave. Now."
"But Catherine—"
"Is dead. And so will you be if we stay here." His grip is iron on my wrist. "That was meant for you, Seraphina. That death was supposed to be yours."
Guards surround us as nobles scream and run in every direction. Some are trying to help Catherine's body. Others are shouting accusations.
"Someone tried to kill the Emperor's bride!"
"The Ashford girl did this!"
"No, she tried to stop it!"
Through the chaos, I see Elena Frost standing at the edge of the courtyard. She's no longer running or hiding.
She's smiling.
And beside her stands a man in a black cloak, his face hidden in shadows. But I can see his hand resting on Elena's shoulder in a possessive way.
Her brother. The "rightful heir."
He raises his other hand and suddenly waves of dark energy pulse through the courtyard. People start screaming louder, clutching their heads.
"Dark magic," Emperor Cassian hisses. "He's a dark mage."
The hooded man's voice booms across the courtyard, amplified by magic: "Citizens of Valendros! Your Emperor is a fraud! The Draegor bloodline is cursed! Every bride he touches dies! Tonight proves it!"
"That's a lie!" I shout, but my voice is lost in the chaos.
"I am Prince Lucien Draegor, true son of the late Emperor's brother! I am the rightful heir!" The man throws back his hood, revealing a face that looks eerily similar to Cassian's—but twisted with rage and ambition. "And I challenge Emperor Cassian for the throne!"
The crowd goes deadly silent.
A royal challenge. I read about these in the history books. When a blood relative challenges the sitting emperor, they fight to the death. Winner takes the crown.
"Cassian," I whisper. "You don't have to—"
"I accept." His voice rings out clear and strong. He releases my wrist and steps forward, drawing his sword. "Tomorrow at dawn. The Imperial Arena. We fight until one of us is dead."
Prince Lucien smiles viciously. "Finally. I've waited so long for this."
He and Elena disappear in a swirl of dark smoke.
The courtyard erupts again, nobles shouting over each other. But I can't focus on any of it.
Because Emperor Cassian just agreed to a death match.
And the novel never mentioned a Prince Lucien. Never mentioned a challenge for the throne.
The story has changed again. Gone completely off script.
And tomorrow at dawn, the man I'm supposed to marry might die before we ever make it to the wedding.