Chapter Two: Secrets and Scandals

Seraphina stepped into the ballroom and felt the stares like drawn blades. Her heart beat once, hard. She steadied her breathing, schooling her features into practiced serenity. She'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times, not the scene, but the armor. Polished smile, lifted chin, graceful glide. This was theater. And tonight, she had to be the best actress in the room. She forced her spine straight, each step precise. They couldn’t see her flinch. Not tonight. Caelan was already watching her. Not casually, his gaze pinned her like a challenge. Evelyne watched too, smirking from behind her wineglass. And Alaric? He wasn’t laughing anymore.

She moved fast, nearly collided with a tray of fruit-stuffed pastries. The servant dodged. She didn’t apologize.

Her eyes swept the room. Velvet, gold, crystal, and poison. Alaric sat on the dais, too loud with a baroness spilling out of her bodice. But his gaze slid her way a second too late, like he’d been watching until she noticed. Her stomach clenched.

He hadn’t seen anything. Not exactly. But his instincts were sharp, and she could feel the pressure building.

Caelan stood where she expected, half-shadowed against a marble pillar. Even at a distance, she felt the charge in the air. The mask covered half his face, but not the set of his jaw or the sharp focus in his eyes. He was handsome, the kind that distracted before he struck. A quiet weapon wrapped in restraint.

She hated how much that thrilled her.

She weaved between nobles. Just as she found her opening, Evelyne appeared, wine glass in hand.

“Really, Seraphina? That one?” Evelyne’s tone was silk stretched over a blade. “The Warden General? He doesn’t flirt, he hunts.”

Seraphina sipped her wine. “Then let’s hope I’m worth the kill.”

Evelyne’s smile sharpened. “For your sake, I hope he’s just staring. For his? I hope you’re not.”

The interruption slowed her, but only briefly. She adjusted. Recalculated.

Finally, an opening.

She slipped past two guards, toward the shadows.

“You’ve been circling me all night,” Caelan said, not turning.

“Afraid I’ll catch you?”

“No,” he said, facing her. “I was wondering if you'd dare.”

They were inches apart. Her pulse thudded beneath silk.

“You moved to the far side of the room on purpose.”

He gave the faintest smile. “Had to see how badly you wanted this.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“So I was a test.”

“A temptation,” he said. “I wanted to see if you’d risk it with everyone watching.”

Her voice dropped. “And now?”

“You passed.”

Their arms brushed. She leaned in, fingers touched, the note passed, deliberate.

“Or maybe I wanted you to catch me,” she said.

He didn’t answer. But his silence said enough.

She broke the contact first, turning without a word, pulse spiking.

She didn’t look back.

But she didn’t have to.

Alaric was watching her.

He stood near the crowd, arms folded like stone. Their eyes met. The smile on his face didn’t match the ice in his gaze.

“Interesting company tonight,” he murmured as she passed.

She didn’t blink. “You know how I adore variety.”

“And danger?” He nodded toward where Caelan had stood.

“I married you, didn’t I?”

He leaned in slightly. “Evelyne said the two of you looked... engaged.”

She gave a light laugh. “Should I check in with Evelyne before speaking to anyone now?”

He stepped closer, voice tightening. “It’s not about permission. It’s about appearances.”

She offered a smile just wide enough to seem amused. “Then maybe remind Evelyne to mind hers before judging mine.”

His jaw twitched. “This court eats scandal for sport.”

She let her gaze soften. “Then let them choke.”

Then, for the court, for Caelan, for everyone watching, he grabbed her chin and kissed her.

Seraphina didn’t move, but her eyes flicked, just once, toward the pillar.

Was Caelan still watching? She didn’t know. Didn’t dare check again. But she felt the pull. If he saw, what would he think?

Alaric’s kiss wasn’t affection. It was a brand. A claim.

Gasps fluttered nearby.

Her breasts hit his chest as he deepened it, one hand anchoring her waist. Her spine stiffened beneath the silk.

Not passion. Not love. Just performance.

Her skin crawled beneath the praise she’d earned for pretending. That kiss hadn’t just silenced the whispers, it reminded her exactly who still believed they owned her. And who might convince others it was true.

He kissed her cheek, then her temple, each one slow and deliberate, calculated for the audience. Seraphina didn’t recoil, but fire roared beneath her skin. She counted the seconds, jaw tight, smile frozen. Let them think she was his. Let them see her play the part. Inside, she was already imagining how he’d look when the blade turned. one deliberate, for the crowd. His breath skimmed her ear as he whispered, "Smile for the ones watching."

She forced her lips into a perfect curve, practiced and poisonous. Every inch of her screamed to recoil, to shove him away, but she held the mask in place. Not here. Not yet.

Seraphina raised her glass, lips curving like everything was fine, then walked off without a backward glance. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.

She didn’t wipe her mouth. Didn’t react.

But Caelan was gone. Just like that. A flicker of disappointment twisted through her chest, hot, sharp, and irrational. She’d handed him the note, exposed just enough to make it count. And now, nothing. Had she misread him? Or was this another test, his silence a challenge, his absence a message? She didn’t know. But the uncertainty didn’t paralyze her. It focused her. If he was watching, she’d give him something worth seeing. No glance. No signal. And that stung more than she expected.

Because she’d handed him a piece of her plan, and now she didn’t know if he’d use it, ignore it, or bury it.

A twist of bitterness curled in her gut. Not shame. Just a reminder that every move costs her.

Once out of sight, she slipped into a side corridor, somewhere quiet, her breath shallow, her pulse racing. She needed a second to cool her head. To calm the rage clawing at her ribs.

The kiss meant he suspected something. Or wanted to mark territory.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because tomorrow, she would break into the Vessant archive, the one place she was never allowed. Since waking, she’d planned this. Every step tonight was just groundwork.

Let them watch.

Let them whisper.

Let them see what happens when the forgotten duchess finds the secrets they tried to bury.