Seraphina's POV
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that hooded figure in the shadows. Watching me. Waiting.
Who were they? Another assassin? A spy my father sent?
Or something worse?
A knock on the door made me jump.
"Lady Seraphina?" King Cassian's voice came through. "May I enter?"
I clutched my blanket, heart racing. It was late—past midnight, judging by the moon outside my window.
"Why?" I called back, suspicious. "What do you want?"
"I brought dinner. I heard from the servants you didn't eat."
Dinner? At midnight?
"I'm not hungry," I lied. My stomach growled, betraying me.
A pause. Then: "Please. I just want to talk. I'll leave the door open if it makes you feel safer."
Something in his voice—concern, not demand—made me relent.
"Fine. Come in."
The door opened, and King Cassian entered carrying a tray. He did keep the door open, just as promised. And Commander Rylan stood outside, giving me a respectful nod.
Protection. Not a trap.
Cassian set the tray on the table by the fireplace. Steam rose from covered dishes, and the smell made my mouth water.
"Roast chicken, potatoes, fresh bread, and apple pie," he said, uncovering each dish. "Elena told me these were your favorites."
How did Elena know that? Then I remembered—she'd asked me casual questions during my bath days ago. I'd thought she was just being friendly.
She'd been gathering information. For him.
"Why do you care what I like to eat?" I asked, staying on the bed, keeping distance between us.
He pulled out a chair and sat, gesturing to the other one. "Because you're a guest in my castle. And guests should be comfortable."
"I'm not a guest. I'm a prisoner."
"No," he said firmly. "You're not."
"Then what am I?"
His silver eyes met mine. "Someone under my protection. There's a difference."
I wanted to believe him. But trust was dangerous. Trust got you betrayed.
"You're staring at the food like it might bite you," he observed. "Let me guess—you're worried it's poisoned?"
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
He sighed, picked up the fork, and took a bite of chicken. Then potatoes. Then bread. He chewed, swallowed, and waited.
"See? Safe. I wouldn't poison my own food."
"Maybe you're immune," I countered. "Maybe you built up tolerance."
He almost smiled. "You've read too many spy novels."
"Can you blame me? My stepmother just tried to kill me three days ago!"
"Fair point." He stood and gestured to the food. "Then I'll sit over here by the fire, and you can eat in peace. But Seraphina, you need to eat. You're still too thin."
The way he said my name—gentle, concerned—made something in my chest tighten.
I got up slowly and moved to the table. The food really did smell amazing.
I took a small bite of chicken. It was delicious. I took another. Then another. Soon I was eating like I'd been starved for weeks—which wasn't far from the truth.
"Better?" Cassian asked from his chair.
"Yes," I admitted quietly. "Thank you."
We sat in silence for a while. Him by the fire, me eating. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't. It felt... almost peaceful.
"Why are you really here?" I finally asked. "It's the middle of the night. Kings don't personally deliver food to prisoners—sorry, 'guests.'"
He stared into the flames. "I couldn't sleep either. I kept thinking about what happened in the garden today."
The hooded figure.
"You saw them too?" I asked sharply.
"No. But I believe you did." He turned to look at me. "I've doubled the guard around you. Tripled, actually. But I need to know—did the figure seem familiar? Did you recognize anything about them?"
I thought back, trying to remember details. "They were tall. Moved carefully, like they knew how to stay hidden. And..." I frowned. "There was something about the way they stood. Like I should know them."
"Could it have been your father?"
I shook my head. "My father is bigger. Broader. This person was leaner. Almost... elegant."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "Prince Daemon?"
My ex-fiancé. The man who'd publicly rejected me.
"Maybe," I whispered. "But why would he come here? He made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me."
"Maybe he was sent by your father. Or maybe..." Cassian hesitated. "Maybe he regrets what he did."
I laughed bitterly. "Daemon doesn't regret anything. He only cares about power and status. I was never more than a political tool to him."
"Then he was a fool."
I looked up, startled. "What?"
Cassian stood and moved closer, his expression serious. "Any man who had you and threw you away is a fool. You're smart, brave, and stronger than you realize. Prince Daemon didn't deserve you."
My cheeks burned. No one had ever spoken to me like that. Like I was valuable. Like I mattered.
"You don't know me," I said quietly. "You don't know if I'm brave or strong. Maybe I'm exactly what my father said—weak, useless, a disappointment."
"Stop." Cassian's voice was sharp. "Don't repeat his lies. I've seen you survive betrayal, torture, assassination attempts, and you're still here. Still fighting. That's not weakness. That's strength."
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back furiously.
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why do you care? Why are you being so kind to me? What do you want from me?"
He knelt in front of my chair, bringing himself to my eye level. His silver eyes were intense but gentle.
"I want nothing from you except the truth. And I care because I know what it's like to be alone, betrayed, and convinced you're worthless." He paused. "Your mother saved me from that darkness. Let me do the same for you."
"What if I can't be saved?" I whispered. "What if I'm too broken?"
"Then I'll help you put the pieces back together." He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, he wiped a tear from my cheek. "You've been hurt enough, Seraphina. Let someone help you heal."
For a moment, we just looked at each other. And I felt something dangerous bloom in my chest.
Hope.
Trust.
Maybe even something more.
"I'm scared," I admitted. "I'm scared that if I trust you, you'll hurt me too."
"I won't," he promised. "I swear on my mother's grave—I will never hurt you."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"Anything."
"That day at the border, when you saw me for the first time—you looked angry. Not at me, but at the people who hurt me. Why?"
His hand dropped from my face, and he looked away. "Because I saw bruises and starvation and fear in your eyes. And I saw my mother in you. How she looked before they killed her." His voice roughened. "I couldn't save her. But I could save you."
My heart ached for him. For the boy who'd lost his mother. For the king carrying that guilt.
"I'm sorry about your mother," I said softly.
"And I'm sorry about yours." He stood and moved back to give me space. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? Two people haunted by the ghosts of the mothers we couldn't save."
"Maybe," I said, "we can help each other survive the ghosts."
He smiled—a real smile that transformed his face. "I'd like that."
We talked for hours after that. About our mothers, our childhoods, our fears. He told me about learning to be king at sixteen. I told him about growing up with a stepmother who hated me.
By the time he left, dawn was breaking outside.
"Get some rest," he said at the door. "Tomorrow, I want to show you something."
"What?"
"A surprise." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Trust me?"
I hesitated. Then, for the first time in my life, I chose to trust someone.
"Yes," I said. "I trust you."
His smile widened. "Good. Sleep well, Seraphina."
He closed the door, and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
I climbed into bed, exhausted but somehow lighter than before. Maybe King Cassian was right. Maybe I could heal here.
Maybe I could even be happy.
I was almost asleep when I heard it.
A soft scratching sound.
At the window.
My eyes flew open. The window was closed, but something was scraping against the glass.
Slowly, I got up and moved closer.
A piece of paper was stuck to the outside of the window, held by a small dagger stabbed into the wooden frame.
My blood turned cold.
Someone had climbed up to the third floor, stabbed a message to my window, and disappeared.
With shaking hands, I opened the window and pulled the dagger free. The paper fluttered in the night breeze.
I unfolded it.
Four words, written in elegant script I recognized:
"He's lying. Trust no one."
It was signed with a symbol—a crowned wolf.
The symbol of the Aelorian royal family.
Prince Daemon's symbol.
My ex-fiancé was here. In Valcrest. And he was trying to warn me about King Cassian.
But warn me about what?
I looked at the dagger in my hand. Real. Sharp. Expensive.
This wasn't a joke or a trick.
Daemon had risked his life to deliver this message.
Which meant either King Cassian was lying to me...
Or Daemon was trying to manipulate me.
But which one?
I stared at the note, my heart pounding.
The king who'd shown me nothing but kindness.
Or the prince who'd thrown me away.
Who was telling the truth?
And who was the real enemy?