Chapter 34: Between Fire and Ash

Chapter 34: Between Fire and Ash

The garden's oppressive silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths. Delacroix exhaled, his composure unraveling under Seraphina and Adrian's watchful stares. He shifted uneasily, as though the weight of what he was about to reveal pressed upon him like a vice.

"You already know Montverre is involved," Delacroix began, his voice low. "But what you don't understand is the extent of his reach."

Seraphina crossed her arms, schooling her features into careful neutrality despite the storm brewing beneath her skin. "Then enlighten us."

Delacroix hesitated, casting a wary glance over his shoulder before continuing. "Montverre has been orchestrating these power plays for years. Your father was not his first victim—nor will he be his last. The king's council is riddled with men who answer to him. Laurent was merely a tool, someone he used to execute his will while keeping his own hands clean."

Adrian's expression remained unreadable, but his stance was rigid, as though holding back a fury that simmered just beneath the surface. "And my mother?" His voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of steel. "What did Montverre have to do with Evelyne's death?"

Delacroix swallowed hard. "That… is unclear. But whatever she discovered before she died, it was damning enough for Montverre to ensure she never spoke of it. She was a threat, just as Evernight was. And now…" He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Now, so are you."

Seraphina's jaw tightened. "You're saying this conspiracy is still in motion?"

Delacroix let out a humorless chuckle. "Did you think it ended with your father's death? With Evelyne's murder? No. Montverre is patient. He doesn't simply remove threats—he replaces them. He molds the kingdom to his liking. And those who oppose him…" His voice trailed off, the implication lingering in the air like a blade poised above their heads.

Adrian stepped closer, his presence an unspoken threat. "And why are you telling us this now?"

Delacroix's lips curled into something resembling a smirk, though there was no humor in it. "Because I know what happens to those who defy Montverre. I have no illusions about my fate. But if I must choose sides, I'd rather stand with the devil I know." His gaze flickered to Seraphina. "And right now, that devil is you."

A long silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of revelation.

Seraphina finally spoke, her voice like tempered steel. "You're right about one thing, Delacroix." She stepped forward, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "This isn't over."

Adrian's silver gaze flickered toward her, unreadable yet approving. He turned back to Delacroix. "If you expect our protection, you'll have to earn it. Every name, every move Montverre makes—I want to know it before he does."

Delacroix nodded slowly. "Then we have an understanding."

Seraphina didn't smile. The night air felt colder now, thick with the whispers of war yet to come.

Montverre had made his move.

Now, it was their turn.

Later at Valemont Manor

The tension in the room was unbearable.

Seraphina stood by the fireplace, arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching as Adrian removed his coat with practiced ease. The flickering flames cast golden shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more dangerous than he already was.

Dangerous. That was the word she always clung to when she looked at him, when she felt the heat of his presence so near. It was easier than acknowledging the other things—the way her breath hitched when he moved too close, the way her pulse betrayed her in his presence.

But tonight, there was no escape.

They had returned from the Montverre estate with the weight of newfound revelations pressing upon them. Laurent had been playing a game of shadows, but Delacroix had laid bare the truth—Laurent was nothing more than a pawn in Montverre's grander scheme. The mastermind had always been Montverre. The true enemy.

And yet, it wasn't only the revelation that left her restless.

It was him.

Adrian Valemont.

The way he was watching her now.

His shirt was half undone, sleeves rolled up, exposing the corded strength of his forearms. He leaned against the edge of the desk, studying her with an unreadable expression.

"You've been quiet," he murmured.

Seraphina swallowed. "I'm thinking."

His lips curved slightly. "About what?"

She hesitated, then turned toward the fire. "Everything."

She felt him move before she heard him. A slow, deliberate step. Then another. The heat of his presence at her back sent a shiver up her spine, and when he finally spoke, his voice was impossibly low.

"Tell me."

She closed her eyes, trying to steel herself. He's your enemy. Isn't he?

Except that lie no longer held the power it once did.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch him in her periphery. His dark eyes burned with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Seraphina exhaled. "I don't trust you."

His hand lifted, and for a breathless moment, she thought he would touch her. Instead, he braced it against the fireplace mantel, caging her between the stone and his body. Not touching. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.

"And yet," he murmured, voice like smoke, "you're here."

Her heart pounded. "Because I have no choice."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Don't you?"

She turned fully now, her back pressing against the stone. He was so close that if she moved even an inch, they would touch. His scent surrounded her, dark and heady, and her breath hitched when his gaze dipped to her lips.

This was a mistake.

A terrible, devastating mistake.

She needed to move. Needed to break away before she did something reckless.

But Adrian reached for her first.

Slowly, carefully, his fingers traced the underside of her jaw, tilting her chin up. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't come.

Because she didn't want him to stop.

She saw it in his eyes—the same war raging inside her. This wasn't just power or control or strategy anymore. This was something neither of them had planned for. Something neither of them could seem to fight.

Then, at the last second, Adrian's jaw tightened, and he pulled away. His fingers lingered on her skin for a fraction longer than necessary before he let her go entirely.

The distance between them felt like a chasm.

Seraphina exhaled sharply, her body still betraying her, still aching from his nearness. "This changes nothing," she whispered.

He smirked, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, Duchess."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the bed.

She stared after him, pulse still racing.

This was spiraling out of control.

And she had no idea how to stop it.

But did she even want to?