The intense morning session with Lorcan left me physically and emotionally raw. The heat that had surged into his back, and the subsequent cold isolation of his soul that had rushed back into me, had been a violating exchange. I was physically fine, but my emotional boundaries had been shattered. I now knew his profound weakness, and he knew the ferocious strength of my untamed power.
I was resting in my chambers, the residual ache of the magical feedback loop throbbing in my forearms, when Vesper interrupted my solitude.
"Lady Isolde requests an immediate audience, Your Highness," Vesper announced, her face unreadable. "She claims it is a matter of administrative necessity regarding the wedding logistics, but she refuses to use a courier."
Administrative necessity. I knew better. Isolde had been waiting for the first sign of my failure. The destruction of the Sunstone and the subsequent delay of the ritual was that sign. She knew Lorcan would be unstable, and she was coming to press the advantage.
"Show her in," I commanded, rising from my seat. I had to look strong, despite the fatigue. I mentally anchored myself, pulling on the memory of the profound cold of Lorcan's shadow, my only reliable counter-magic now, to steady the residual tremble in my hands.
Lady Isolde swept into the room, dressed in a stunning gown of dark emerald that seemed to shimmer with captured moonlight. She carried an ornamental cane and a small, exquisite silver box. She dismissed Vesper with a flick of her hand before turning her piercing blue gaze on me.
"Seraphina Lyra. I heard the news of your… accident," Isolde said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Such a pity that the only ancestral relic capable of stabilizing your power has been reduced to dust. It speaks volumes of your suitability, does it not? The King is already weakened, and now you have destroyed the foundation of his recovery."
"The Sunstone was contaminated, Isolde," I countered, standing fully to meet her height. "It was drawing power even in a stable flow. It was a faulty instrument. My swift action prevented a fatal flaw in the bond, which would have weakened the King permanently."
Isolde laughed, which really was just a cold, brittle sound. "A commendable spin, little half-mortal. But the Court sees it differently. They see a delay. They see a desperate King now resorting to intimate, last-ditch training that is highly volatile, rather than a proven artifact. They see you instigating a disaster."
She walked toward the ornamental table near the window and opened the silver box she carried. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a single, perfect flower: a Nightshade Bloom. It was a beautiful, dark purple blossom, but its petals were edged with a faint, oily blackness.
"This is a gift from the Verdant Line," Isolde continued, her voice suddenly lowering, becoming a venomous hiss. "The Nightshade Bloom is exquisite, but its pollen is a rare, slow-acting neurotoxin. It does not kill instantly. It causes weakness, blurred vision, and a loss of motor control."
She did not touch the bloom, merely gestured toward it. "The wedding date is only delayed, not cancelled. But there are many ways for the King to decide his bride is suddenly too weak to survive the bond. A simple accident in your training. A sudden magical instability caused by a mysterious fainting spell."
Her gaze hardened, locking onto mine. "The Court is looking for an opportunity to intervene. They will not allow a reckless child to bring down the Shadow Throne. If you fail to stabilize your fire, Isolde will stabilize the Court. Do you understand the difference, Seraphina? I am not merely threatening your removal; I am threatening your incapacitation and the subsequent nullification of your claim."
The intensity of her animosity was staggering. I couldn't afford to let fear paralyze me. I forced myself to think like Lorcan: coldly, calculatingly.
"And if I succeed, Lady Isolde?" I asked, meeting her venom with a cool front. "If I master the Sun-Fire in two weeks and heal the King? Will you risk his fury, and the destruction of your own ancient line, by attempting to assassinate the savior of his kingdom?"
Isolde smiled. It was a sharp, hungry look that revealed her true ambition. "If you succeed, Seraphina, you will merely become the King's weakness. And weaknesses are dealt with. Perhaps not by my hand, but certainly by the demands of the nobles who would rather see a Queen of pure Nightshade blood."
She closed the box with a soft snap and placed it squarely in the middle of the table.
"Enjoy the gift, Your Highness. And be careful of where you breathe." Isolde gave a short, mocking curtsy and left the chamber, gliding past Vesper without a word.
Vesper immediately moved to the table, her eyes fixed on the silver box. "That is a severe breach of court etiquette, Seraphina. She has openly threatened you."
"She has given me a deadline," I corrected, walking slowly toward the box. I felt the powerful, oppressive magical aura of the neurotoxin emanating from the box. "She is a political vulture, Vesper. She won't stop at pollen. She will find my actual vulnerability."
I looked at the silver box. I knew I couldn't trust Vesper to keep the secret.
"Vesper, summon Scribe Rian immediately," I commanded. "I require a detailed historical analysis of the Nightshade Bloom's uses in assassination attempts. I need to understand its antidote, and I need to understand Lady Isolde's specific magical line and weakness before my next training session. Tell the King I am preparing for external threats, as he requested."
Vesper gave me a curt nod, her mind already calculating the risk. "As you command, Your Highness."
As Vesper left, I didn't touch the silver box. I knew Isolde was powerful, but she was a known quantity. The real danger lay in Lorcan, who was now bound to me by a desperate, intimate need. I had to survive the external political fight to have a chance against the internal magical one. The Nightshade Court had just officially turned into a battlefield.