Chapter 30: A Game of Shadows

Chapter 30: A Game of Shadows

Seraphina felt the heat of Adrian's hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the final turn of the waltz. Their movements were effortless, perfectly in sync, but the game they played was anything but simple.

As the music faded, applause rippled through the room. Seraphina allowed a polite smile to touch her lips, though inside, her mind was elsewhere. She could feel Delacroix's gaze burning into her, measuring, calculating. He masked his thoughts well, but she had spent years learning to read the smallest of tells—the tension in his jaw, the idle drumming of his fingers against his wine glass.

He was unsettled.

Good.

Adrian leaned in, his lips just grazing the curve of her ear. "He's waiting for you to make a move."

Seraphina tilted her head slightly, letting her fingers skim down the length of Adrian's arm in a gesture that was both calculated and intimate. A performance for the watching eyes. "Then let's not disappoint him, shall we?"

She slipped away from Adrian's grasp with fluid grace, making her way toward Delacroix. The marquis raised his glass in greeting as she approached, his expression the picture of idle amusement.

"Duchess Valemont," he drawled, his voice smooth as silk over steel. "What an unexpected delight."

Seraphina smiled, dipping into a slight curtsy. "Marquis Delacroix, it has been too long."

"Indeed," he agreed, his sharp eyes scanning her carefully. "I must say, your husband's presence has done you a great service. You seem... transformed."

She met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "A woman flourishes in the right company."

"Ah," he mused, swirling his wine. "And yet, I always believed you favored the company of ghosts."

A veiled insult, meant to test her. Seraphina merely tilted her head, letting amusement glint in her eyes. "Ghosts have much to teach, Marquis. They whisper of truths others dare not speak."

A flicker of something passed over Delacroix's expression, gone as quickly as it appeared. But she caught it. A hesitation. A crack.

He let out a low chuckle, taking a slow sip of his wine. "How poetic. And tell me, what truths have you uncovered lately?"

She held his gaze steadily. "That the past has a way of returning, no matter how deeply one buries it."

The air between them tensed. For a fraction of a second, Delacroix's fingers tightened around his glass. His control was impeccable, but that brief flicker of tension—she had rattled him.

There.

Before he could recover, Adrian was at her side, his presence a silent yet potent warning.

"Marquis," Adrian greeted smoothly, inclining his head in an elegant show of civility. "Enjoying the evening?"

Delacroix took another measured sip, his expression unreadable. "Immensely."

Seraphina turned to Adrian, her smile cool. "The marquis and I were just reminiscing about the past. It seems it lingers in all our minds."

Adrian's gaze flickered between them, then he smiled—sharp and knowing. "The past is a fickle thing. It always finds its way home."

Delacroix chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. "How philosophical of you, Your Grace."

Adrian's smirk did not waver. "Philosophy has its uses. But I prefer results."

A silent challenge passed between the men, their words laced with meaning far deeper than mere pleasantries.

Seraphina let herself exhale slowly. Delacroix was rattled. She had cracked his composure, and Adrian had reinforced the strike.

Now, it was only a matter of time before the marquis made a mistake.

And when he did, she would be waiting.