Chapter 10: Chapter 9 – Trap

Chapter 9 – Trap

The afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows of their shared room, warm and golden. The light danced over the floor, softening the edges of the stone and bathing the silken curtains in a gentle glow. In that moment, all felt calm. Peaceful. Almost like a dream.

Seraphina stood behind Aurelia with a small wooden comb in hand, carefully parting and braiding the young girl's long hair. Aurelia sat cross-legged on the cushioned stool, humming a gentle tune under her breath, swinging her feet ever so slightly in time with the rhythm.

“Hold still,” Seraphina murmured, looping a final strand of honey-brown hair into the braid. “You’re going to look just like your mother did.”

Aurelia tilted her head back with a teasing grin. “Are you saying I’m not beautiful already?”

“You’re stunning,” Seraphina replied with a soft laugh, gently tugging the braid tight. “But today, you’ll be radiant.”

Aurelia beamed. “Then I expect a full parade when I walk the halls.”

“Oh? Should I fetch trumpets and petals too?”

“Obviously.”

They both laughed.

For a fleeting second, the world outside their little room ceased to exist.

But then—the knock came.

Sharp. Unceremonious.

Seraphina froze. Aurelia straightened instantly, smile vanishing. Their eyes met in a silent question neither could answer. Before either could speak, the heavy door creaked open.

Five Imperial Guards entered the room without waiting for permission.

Their crimson armor gleamed under the light. Their expressions were hard, unreadable.

Seraphina instinctively stepped in front of Aurelia, her body shielding the girl without hesitation.

One of the guards—a taller man with a silver sash—spoke first.

“By order of His Majesty, an investigation is underway.”

“Investigation?” Seraphina echoed, eyes narrowing.

The man’s voice remained cold. “The ambassador from Hestia was found dead this morning. Poisoned. Black Lily extract. Highly regulated. Highly fatal.”

Seraphina’s heart skipped. She felt Aurelia shift behind her.

The man continued, “His Majesty has commanded a full search of the palace. Every room, every trunk, every scrap of parchment. The poison had to come from somewhere.”

They didn’t wait for a response.

Without ceremony, the guards began tearing through the room—overturning drawers, pulling back bed sheets, inspecting bookshelves, even opening sealed letters. One woman guard pulled the small flower vase off the desk and sniffed it before tossing it aside.

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Seraphina clenched her fists. “You have no right—”

“We have every right,” the silver-sashed guard cut her off, already moving to the trunks near the wardrobe.

Then it happened.

Another guard opened the silver trunk beside Aurelia’s writing desk. A few books lay inside—old notebooks, ink, sketches, and a folded cloth bundle. When he opened the bundle, four dried Black Lily plants tumbled onto the floor. A small note fluttered out after them.

“‘Discovered,’” the guard read aloud, voice sharp with accusation. “So this is where it came from.”

Seraphina’s blood turned to ice.

The guards turned toward them.

“Whose trunk is this?”

Silence fell over the room.

Aurelia stepped forward, eyes wide. “Wait, that’s—”

“It’s mine,” Seraphina interrupted, voice loud and clear.

Aurelia froze.

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Yours?”

“Yes,” Seraphina nodded. “I’ve been studying rare poisons… privately. For medical understanding. I didn’t report the lilies because I was afraid of punishment. It was foolish.” She forced her voice to steady. “But it was me.”

Aurelia stared at her in disbelief. “That’s not—”

Seraphina turned slightly and caught her eyes.

Please don’t.

Her gaze said everything. If you say one word… if they take you away, what will I have left to protect?

Aurelia's mouth opened.

Then closed.

She bit her lip, trembling.

“You’re pathetic,” she whispered—not to Seraphina, but to herself.

The lead guard stepped forward and grabbed Seraphina’s wrist. “You are hereby detained under suspicion of espionage and conspiracy to assassinate a diplomatic guest of the Empire.”

Aurelia flinched as Seraphina was yanked backward.

Another guard stepped between them, blocking Aurelia’s path. “By Imperial decree, the young princess is to be placed under internal house arrest until this matter is resolved. She is not to leave her wing.”

“Wait—” Aurelia reached out. “She didn’t—she’s not—!”

The doors slammed shut.

Seraphina didn’t struggle as the iron cuffs were fastened around her wrists. She didn’t flinch when the guards shoved her forward.

She just kept walking.

Her only thought was this:

It doesn’t matter what they do to me.

As long as Aurelia lives… Lysandra’s memory lives too.

And Seraphina would burn before she let that memory be buried.

___

Aurelia’s POV

It had been nine days since Seraphina was taken.

Nine days since the warmth of her presence vanished.

Nine days since her voice, her scent, her gentle humming stopped echoing through the stone walls of their shared world.

Aurelia had cried so much in those first five days that it felt like her heart had wrung itself dry. The pillows were stained. The walls heard every sob. She screamed at the guards outside her door, pounded her fists until they bruised—but no one came. No one listened.

They brought her food at regular intervals—two silent maids who barely met her eyes. Always under watch. Always surrounded by silence.

Until today.

The iron latch of the door clicked sharply, and a guard stepped in, armored and indifferent. His eyes swept the room, then settled on her.

“House arrest is over,” he said flatly. “You may leave your quarters. One escort will follow. You’re still under suspicion.”

Aurelia blinked. “Wait—what about Seraphina?!”

The guard gave a small grunt, barely interested. “The maid? The spy?”

His lips curled into something like a smirk. “She’s being executed. Today.”

The words struck her like a slap. She staggered back, clutching the edge of her writing desk.

“W-What? Why?!”

“It’s protocol. Spies and assassins are dealt with quickly. Especially when a foreign ambassador is involved. She’ll be executed before the diplomats arrive for the evening session. You may watch if you wish.”

Her vision swam.

The moment the guard turned, she bolted.

“Hey!” he barked, but she didn’t stop. Her feet thundered down the hallway. Another guard followed, his boots pounding behind her, but she didn’t care. She grabbed servants by their sleeves, shouted at confused nobles in the halls.

“Where is she?! Where is the execution taking place?!”

At last, someone pointed toward the lower levels.

And there it was. A platform set in the courtyard beside the underground prison. Wooden beams. Ropes. Chains. Blood already stained the stones beneath it.

And in the center… Seraphina.

Aurelia froze.

Her best friend. Her caretaker. Her everything.

Seraphina’s hair was matted with blood and sweat. Her maid uniform hung in rags, parts of it torn away by force, the fabric burned or lashed to shreds. Bruises covered her arms. Her face—oh, her face—was swollen, split at the lip, one eye half-shut.

Yet… she stood.

She stood tall.

Even now, even like this, she looked toward Aurelia.

And smiled.

That soft, warm smile that had once soothed scraped knees and broken dreams. A little sad. A little tired. But still full of love.

Aurelia tried to run to her, but strong arms blocked her path.

“No closer,” barked a guard. “You’re not permitted.”

“Let me through! Please, she didn’t—she’s not—!” Aurelia screamed, struggling in vain.

Seraphina’s eyes never left hers. That smile wavered for a second, almost trembling. And then Seraphina looked away—down at the bloodied stage beneath her feet.

She chuckled. Just once. A sound so soft it barely carried.

“So this is how my sister must have felt,” she muttered. “Watching me go… unable to stop it.”

Aurelia didn’t hear the words. But she saw the expression change—saw that flicker of grief cross Seraphina’s face.

She’s scared, Aurelia realized. But she’s trying to be strong. For me.

Seraphina glanced skyward.

Her voice came again—barely audible to those nearby.

“I stopped believing in the gods a long time ago. But just this once… if you’re there… I’ll trade everything I have. My life. My soul. Just let her live happily.”

Her lips moved in silent prayer. A final offering. Not for herself. Never for herself.

For Aurelia.

Aurelia screamed. “No! Stop this! Please! She’s innocent!!”

But no one listened.

The executioner stepped forward.

Seraphina didn’t flinch. Her head remained bowed, her hands bound, her gaze calm.

She whispered, so faintly, “You’ll be okay, Aurelia… live well.”

And then—

A flash of steel.

The sound of a blade.

Aurelia turned her face away.

But the image was already burned into her soul.

Seraphina… was gone.