Serena chose the hour carefully.
Not midnight, when guards grew suspicious.
Not dawn, when movements were catalogued.
But that thin gray space between night and morning, when exhaustion softened vigilance and shadows looked like habit instead of threat.
She did not wear her usual silks. No jewels, no polished elegance. Only a dark riding coat and gloves that hid the faint tremor in her fingers.
Rejection had not left her.
It had settled into bone.
She had stood once beneath ceremonial firelight, certain of her place. Certain of him. Certain that tradition would bend toward inevitability.
Instead, Alessandro had chosen differently.
Chosen a human.
Chosen her.
Serena tightened her jaw.
Brat.
The word felt small now.
Inadequate.
This was not about jealousy.
This was about displacement.
She rode beyond the eastern markers alone, horse silent under practiced guidance. The estate lights dimmed behind her as forest thickened, branches arching overhead like cathedral ribs.
