Seraphina's POV
I held my breath in the darkness, Adrian pressed against me in the tiny hidden space. Through the crack in the wall panel, we watched Cassian circle Elara's room like a hunting wolf.
"You haven't seen Adrian?" Cassian asked, his voice deceptively soft.
"Not since his escape," Elara lied smoothly. "Why would he come here? I've never shown him kindness."
Cassian stopped moving. Stared directly at our hiding spot.
My heart hammered. Adrian's hand found mine in the dark, squeezing hard.
"Strange," Cassian murmured. "I could swear I feel him nearby. Like a rat hiding in the walls."
He walked toward us. Five steps. Four. Three.
His hand reached for the panel.
"Brother." Elara's voice cut through the tension. "If you're going to search my private chambers, at least have the courtesy to bring a formal warrant. Or do kings not respect their sisters' privacy anymore?"
Cassian's hand stopped inches from the panel. He turned slowly.
"Of course, dear sister. Forgive my rudeness." But his eyes promised violence. "I'll have that warrant by morning. And then we'll search every inch of this palace."
He left, his footsteps echoing.
We waited in suffocating silence until Elara tapped the panel twice—all clear.
Adrian pushed it open and we tumbled out, gasping for air.
"That was too close," I breathed.
"He'll be back." Elara's face was grim. "With soldiers and a warrant. You have maybe twelve hours before this room becomes a death trap."
"Then we move." Adrian stood, already planning. "Tonight. Before he can organize a real search."
"Move where?" I demanded. "The entire palace is hunting you!"
"The abandoned barracks. Where Marcus is meeting the guards tomorrow night." Adrian's purple eyes burned with Dante's cold intelligence. "We go early. Hide there until the meeting. Start building our army."
"That's insane," I said flatly.
"It's survival." He met my gaze. "And on the way, you're going to teach me how to fight properly. Because the next time someone attacks me, I need to do more than barely survive."
Something shifted in my chest. This prince—this strange, impossible prince—kept surprising me.
"You want combat training? Now?" I laughed bitterly. "You can barely hold a knife."
"Then teach me." His voice held no compromise. "I have Dante's memories of street fighting, but this body has no training. I need both. Your military expertise combined with his dirty tactics."
"Who's Dante?"
Adrian froze. Realized his mistake.
"Someone I used to be," he said quietly. "In another life."
I should have pressed for answers. Should have demanded the truth about this prince who fought like a criminal and planned like a general.
But I understood secrets. Understood becoming someone new after your old life burned.
"Fine," I said. "But training means pain. Lots of it. Your body won't be ready."
"I've survived worse than pain."
Three hours later, in the abandoned barracks' training yard, I was making him regret those words.
"Again!" I barked as Adrian hit the dirt for the fifteenth time.
He groaned, trying to stand. His legs shook. Sweat poured down his face.
"I can't," he gasped.
"Then you'll die." I circled him like I'd circled countless raw recruits. "Cassian's soldiers won't go easy on you. They'll break you in seconds. Get. Up."
Adrian's entire body was screaming—I could see it in every trembling muscle. This body had avoided physical training for years. Starting now was torture.
But he stood.
"Defensive stance," I ordered.
He moved into position—sloppy, unbalanced, but he tried.
I swept his legs. He crashed down again.
"You're telegraphing your weight shift," I said. "Any fighter sees that coming. Lower your center. Bend your knees more. Think like water, not a tree."
"Water doesn't get kicked in the face repeatedly," Adrian muttered.
Despite myself, I smiled. "Water also doesn't complain."
He tried again. Better this time. His stance was stronger.
I threw a slow punch—testing.
Adrian blocked it. Wrong form, but effective.
"Good. Again."
We drilled for hours. Basic blocks, basic strikes, basic footwork. Nothing fancy. Just survival skills.
And slowly, impossibly, he improved.
His body was weak, but his mind was sharp. He learned patterns fast. Adapted quickly. Used strategy instead of strength.
"You fight dirty," I observed after he tried to sweep my legs while I was mid-punch.
"I fight to win." Adrian wiped blood from his split lip—I'd clipped him on the last exchange. "Pretty fighting gets you killed."
"Where did you learn that philosophy?"
"The streets. Where I'm from, honor gets you a knife in the back."
There was that mysterious past again. This prince who talked like a criminal.
"You're not Adrian Valerian, are you?" I asked quietly. "Not really."
He went still. "What do you mean?"
"The Mouse Prince was weak, scared, broken. You're none of those things." I stepped closer. "So who are you? Really?"
For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then: "I'm someone who got a second chance. Someone who refuses to waste it. That's all you need to know."
Fair enough. We all had secrets.
"Then let's make sure you survive long enough to use that second chance." I tossed him a real sword—not a practice one. "Tomorrow night, you'll face fifty soldiers. You need to look dangerous. Act five minutes. Don't stop until I say."
"What are we—"
"Fight me. Like you mean it. Like I'm Cassian."
Something dark flashed in Adrian's eyes. He raised the sword.
We clashed.
He was terrible with a blade—no training, no finesse. But he was fast, unpredictable, and willing to use every dirty trick. He tried to kick my knee, throw dirt, use his free hand as a weapon.
I disarmed him in thirty seconds, sword at his throat.
"You learn fast," I admitted, breathing hard. "For someone who was supposedly useless."
Adrian smiled through his exhaustion. "I have a good teacher."
"Don't flirt. It's distracting."
"I wasn't—" He stopped. Realized I was joking. Smiled wider. "Yes, ma'am."
For the first time since my family died, I felt something warm in my chest. Something like hope.
Maybe we could actually do this. Maybe—
The barracks door exploded inward.
Marcus burst in, his face white with panic.
"We have a problem," he gasped. "A massive problem."
"What happened?" Adrian demanded.
"Vivienne woke up. She's telling everyone you tried to rape her. That you're a monster who attacked an innocent woman." Marcus's hands shook. "Cassian's using it to turn the entire kingdom against you. He's calling for your public execution. And the people—" He swallowed hard. "They believe him. They want your blood."
My stomach dropped.
"How long until they find us?" Adrian asked, his voice deadly calm.
"Hours. Maybe less. Cassian's soldiers are searching every building in the city." Marcus looked between us. "It's over. We can't fight the whole kingdom."
"Then we change the game." Adrian's eyes burned with cold fury. "Tomorrow night was supposed to be our secret meeting with guards. We move it up. Tonight. Right now. We recruit every soldier we can find in the next three hours."
"That's not enough time to—"
"It has to be." Adrian grabbed Marcus's shoulders. "You said fifty guards hate Cassian. Find them. Bring them here. Tell them the truth about Vivienne, about Cassian, about everything. We need an army, and we need it now."
Marcus nodded and ran.
Adrian turned to me, his face set with grim determination. "Can you train forty soldiers in two days? Enough to stand against Cassian's forces?"
"Forty against four hundred? Those are suicide odds."
"I've beaten worse." His smile was sharp as broken glass. "And I have something Cassian doesn't."
"What?"
"A general who came back from the dead."
Before I could respond, bells started ringing across the city. Warning bells. Search bells.
They were coming.
And we were out of time.
Adrian looked at me, and I saw Dante staring back—a dead man's determination in a prince's eyes.
"Tonight," he said quietly, "we start a war. Ready?"
I should have said no. Should have run. Should have chosen survival over revenge.
Instead, I picked up my sword.
"Let's burn it all down."
The bells kept ringing.
And somewhere in the darkness, Cassian's army marched closer, ready to destroy us.
Our rebellion had just begun.
And we were already losing.