Chapter 29: The Unseen War

Seraphina descended the grand staircase of the Montverre estate, her every step a practiced display of grace, though beneath her composed exterior, her mind was calculating. The mask of a duchess had settled over her seamlessly, but she was not here merely to play the part of Adrian's wife—she was here to hunt.

Adrian walked beside her, his presence a fortress of quiet command. Though they had entered separately, their timing had been deliberate, their roles carefully woven into the fabric of the night's performance. Now, they strode together, a pair as formidable as they were enigmatic.

The Montverre ballroom was a sea of wealth and whispers. Beneath the glow of chandeliers, nobles danced, laughed, and bartered power with every exchanged glance. But Seraphina had no interest in their petty intrigues. Her prey was here, somewhere amidst the revelers.

Adrian led her to the main hall, where the host of the evening, Marquis Delacroix, stood receiving guests with a smile as polished as his reputation. The marquis was a man whose hands had orchestrated ruin in the shadows while his lips sang loyalty to the crown. Seraphina had long suspected his involvement in her father's downfall, and tonight, she intended to draw him out.

Adrian's hand brushed against hers, the lightest of touches—silent confirmation that he, too, was watching.

"You play your role well, Duchess Valemont," he murmured under his breath, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "But I wonder—can you dance as well as you scheme?"

Seraphina turned her head slightly, catching the sharp glint in his gaze. He was enjoying this. Watching her hunt, waiting to see how she would strike.

"I suppose you'll have to find out," she returned smoothly.

Adrian smirked and extended a hand. "Then dance with me, and let's give them something to talk about."

The music swelled, and before she could protest, he had already pulled her into the waltz.

All around them, eyes followed. Some in admiration, others in speculation. And somewhere in the crowd, their enemies watched too.

Seraphina let herself move with Adrian, her body attuned to his in a way that both unnerved and thrilled her. Every step was a battle, every turn a whispered challenge.

As he spun her effortlessly across the floor, he leaned in, his breath teasing against her ear.

"Delacroix is watching," he murmured. "Shall we give him reason to wonder what we're plotting?"

Seraphina met his gaze, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

"By all means, Your Grace," she whispered back. "Let's make him sweat."