Chapter 9: Secrets and Scars

Sleep did not come easily.

Seraphina lay still long after Adrian had left their chambers. His words echoed in her mind—I expect you to be my queen.

What did he mean by that? A declaration of trust? A challenge? Or another move in his intricate game of power?

She could not afford to be reckless. If her father had fallen prey to unseen forces, she would not make the same mistake.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"My lady," a voice called softly.

She sat up. "Enter."

Lady Eleanor stepped in, carrying a tray of warm tea. "You did well at the ball," the housekeeper said, setting the tray down.

Seraphina arched a brow. "Did I?"

Eleanor's lips curved in something that was not quite a smile. "You kept your head high despite the whispers. That is a victory of its own."

Seraphina studied the older woman. "You've been in this house for many years, haven't you?"

"I have."

"Then tell me—who was the woman in the portrait?"

Eleanor stilled. For a long moment, she simply stared at Seraphina, as if weighing a decision. Then, finally, she spoke.

"She was Lady Evelyne Valemont," Eleanor said, voice careful. "The Duke's mother."

Seraphina's breath caught. "His mother?"

Eleanor nodded. "She died under… tragic circumstances."

A chill crept down Seraphina's spine. "What happened to her?"

Eleanor hesitated. "Perhaps that is a question best answered by your husband."

Seraphina clenched her fists beneath the sheets. She had spent her life being denied the truth. She would not let Adrian control this narrative as well.

But for now, she let Eleanor leave without pressing further.

She would find the truth herself.

---

Later that morning, Seraphina made her way to the western wing of the manor. It was the one part of the house that always remained quiet, the servants never venturing there unless necessary.

She pushed open an old wooden door and stepped inside.

The air was stale. Dust clung to the forgotten furniture.

And then, in the dim light, she saw it.

Another portrait.

Evelyne Valemont, painted in her youth.

She looked almost exactly like Seraphina.

Her heart pounded.

Why had no one told her? Why had Adrian kept this hidden?

A creak behind her made her spin around.

Adrian stood in the doorway, watching her with unreadable eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly.

Seraphina lifted her chin. "Why? What are you hiding?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My mother was murdered, Seraphina."

She sucked in a breath.

"And if you are not careful," he continued, "you may share her fate."