Chapter 4: The Armor of a Lady
The carriage ride to the Grand Duke's estate was the most comfortable thirty minutes I had experienced since dying in Seoul. The velvet seats were plush, and the suspension was magically enchanted to ignore the bumps in the cobblestone road. Across from me, Cassian remained silent, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, but I could feel his eyes flick toward me every time I shifted my weight.
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, not from fear, but from the sudden drop in adrenaline. I was out. I had used the law as a crowbar to pry open my cell door, but I knew the hardest part was coming.
"You're staring," I said, not looking up.
"I am wondering," Cassian replied, his voice a low vibration that seemed to fill the small space. "How a woman who spent her life obsessed with tea parties and silk ribbons suddenly learned to speak like a Supreme Court magistrate."
"Survival is a great teacher, Your Grace. When the shadow of a guillotine hangs over your neck, you tend to remember things you didn't know you knew." I looked him in the eye. "Now, about my accommodations. I require a room with a large desk, sufficient light, and absolute privacy. I have a lot of paperwork to draft before the sun sets."
"You shall have it," Cassian said as the carriage slowed. "But first, you will see the physician. And then... you will see the stylists."
The carriage door opened to reveal the Hel Estate. If the Astra mansion was a sunny garden, the Grand Duke's home was a fortress of dark stone and silver spires. It loomed against the Northern sky, cold and majestic.
As I stepped out, a line of servants bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the gravel. At the front stood a woman with gray hair pulled into a bun so tight it looked painful.
"This is Mrs. Halloway, the head housekeeper," Cassian introduced. "Mrs. Halloway, Lady Seraphina is my Ward. She is to be treated with the same respect as myself. Take her to the Rose Suite. Clean her up. And find her something... appropriate."
"Appropriate, Your Grace?" Mrs. Halloway asked, eyeing my tattered, dirt-streaked dress with professional horror.
"She is a lawyer now," Cassian said, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Dress her for battle."
The next three hours were a blur of steam, scented oils, and the sharp sting of antiseptic. I was scrubbed until my skin was pink. The physician treated the raw sores on my wrists from the shackles, applying a cooling magical salve that healed the skin instantly.
Then came the stylists.
"The Lady Seraphina always wears pink," one of the young maids whispered, holding up a frilly, rose-colored gown with layers of lace that looked like a giant cupcake.
"No," I said, standing up from the vanity mirror. I looked at my reflection. The silver hair was now brushed into a shimmering river, and my violet eyes were clear. "The girl who wore pink is the one they sent to the dungeon. I am not her."
I walked over to the wardrobe they had brought in. I pushed past the ruffles, the sparkles, and the pastels. My eyes landed on a bolt of deep, midnight blue silk so dark it was almost black and a structured jacket made of silver-threaded wool.
"That," I pointed. "High collar. No lace. Minimal embroidery. I want a silhouette that says I am here to negotiate, not to dance."
The maids looked at each other in shock, but they didn't dare argue. They worked with feverish speed.
When I finally stood before the full-length mirror, I didn't see a villainess. I saw a partner at a top-tier law firm. The dark blue dress was elegant but sharp, hugging my frame with a tailored precision that demanded respect. The high collar made me look taller, and the silver buttons glinted like armor. I looked like a woman who could stare down a king and win.
"The Grand Duke is waiting for you in the library, My Lady," Mrs. Halloway said, her voice now carrying a note of genuine awe.
I walked through the corridors of the estate, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble like a rhythmic countdown. Every servant we passed stopped and stared. The "Viper" had shed her old skin, and the new one was far more dangerous.
I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the library.
It was a cathedral of books. Shelves stretched up two stories, filled with leather-bound volumes that smelled of old paper and wisdom. At the far end, in front of a roaring fireplace, Cassian sat with a glass of dark wine.
He looked up as I entered.
He didn't speak for a long time. He simply put his glass down, his gaze traveling from my polished boots to my sharp collar, and finally to my eyes. The intensity of his look made the air feel thin.
"Is this 'appropriate' enough for you, Your Grace?" I asked, my voice echoing in the vast room.
"You look..." He paused, searching for the word. "Like a storm dressed in silk."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said, walking toward a large mahogany desk in the corner. "Now, let's get to work. I've been thinking about your Iron Treaty. If we're going to file for a refund, we need to prove that the 'Permanent Frost' was a documented magical event. Do you have the climate logs for the last three years?"
Cassian walked over, leaning his hip against the edge of the desk. He was too close, his scent of cedar and cold air distracting me for a split second. "The logs exist, but they are sealed by the Imperial Mage Association. They won't hand them over to a 'criminal' or a 'Monster of the North'."
"They don't have to hand them over to us," I said, a predatory smile crossing my lips. "They have to hand them over to a Third-Party Auditor. And under the 'Transparency Act of 410,' any noble house being audited for taxes has the right to appoint their own investigator."
I pulled a blank piece of parchment toward me and dipped a quill in ink.
"I'm appointing myself. By the time the Emperor realizes what happened, I'll have enough evidence to bankrupt his tax office."
Cassian watched me write, his expression unreadable. "You really enjoy this, don't you? The fighting. The loopholes."
"I enjoy winning," I corrected him. "In my old life, people thought the law was about justice. It's not. It's about who has the better argument. The Saintess thinks she's won because she has the hearts of the people. But I have the rules. And the rules are the only thing that keep a society from turning into a lynch mob."
I looked up at him. "Do you believe in justice, Cassian?"
He reached out, his gloved hand hovering near my shoulder before he pulled it back. "I believe in results. And I believe that for the first time in a century, the House of Hel has an ally that isn't afraid of the dark."
"I'm not an ally yet," I reminded him. "I'm a Ward. If I win my case, then we can talk about a permanent partnership. Until then, you are my client. And a lawyer's first duty is to protect her client even from himself."
"And if the 'trap' comes before you're ready?" Cassian asked, his eyes darkening. "The Crown Prince won't let you stay here quietly. He will try to drag you back."
"Let him try," I said, my pen scratching fiercely against the paper. "I've already drafted three injunctions and a restraining order based on his public harassment of me during the arrest. If he sets foot on this property without a legal summons, I'll have him served with a lawsuit that will make his crown rattle."
Cassian leaned in, his face inches from mine. "You're terrifying, Seraphina."
"Thank you," I whispered.
The fire crackled in the hearth, and for a moment, the world of executioners and poison felt far away. But I knew better. Tomorrow, the first trap would be set. The Crown Prince, the Saintess, and the Duke would all realize that I wasn't just surviving I was attacking.
I stayed up until the candles burned down to stubs, my mind spinning with strategies. I wasn't just fighting for Seraphina anymore. I was fighting for the career I had lost, the life I had been given, and the man who was currently watching me from the shadows of the library with a look that wasn't just curiosity anymore.