Chapter 58 – Shadows and Reckonings

The city was still burning.

From the palace walls, Seraphina could see the flickering glow of torches in the distance, hear the distant clash of steel and the cries of men locked in battle. The rebellion had begun, but the night was far from won.

The scent of smoke and blood hung in the air as she stepped onto the cobbled path leading from the tunnels. Every muscle in her body was tight, coiled like a spring. Laurent had to be taken down tonight. Anything less was failure.

Edric was the first to reach her, his cloak billowing behind him as he came to a sharp stop. His face was tense, his breathing uneven.

"Laurent escaped," he said without preamble.

Seraphina's stomach twisted. "How?"

"Adrian had him cornered outside the stables, but the bastard had backup. Crossbows, trained for an ambush. Someone tipped him off."

Seraphina exhaled sharply, her pulse thrumming. Laurent had always been a coward, but he wasn't reckless. If he had made an escape tonight, it was because he had somewhere safe to go—and someone still protecting him.

She turned to the courtyard just as Adrian emerged from the shadows, his sword still in hand, his breath ragged from the fight. His coat was torn, blood splattered across his sleeve—not his own, she realized, but that of the men he had cut down.

There was frustration in the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw.

"He knew," Adrian muttered as he came to a stop beside her. "He knew we were coming."

Seraphina's eyes sharpened. "Which means there's a traitor."

Adrian gave a curt nod, but his gaze was elsewhere—fixed on the palace, on the distant silhouette of the throne room windows.

And then he said, "Laurent wasn't acting alone."

The words sent a chill through her.

She turned to face him fully. "Who?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. Then: "I don't know yet. But Aldric does."

The king.

Seraphina inhaled slowly, piecing together the implications. If Aldric had allowed Laurent's treachery to fester, he was either complicit or had been using him for his own ends.

Either way, he knew more than he had admitted.

Edric glanced between them. "Are you suggesting we march into the throne room and demand answers?"

Adrian's expression darkened. "No. I'm saying Aldric's usefulness is running out. If we want the truth, we'll need to force his hand."

Seraphina met his gaze. "Then we start applying pressure."

Adrian sheathed his sword. "We make him desperate. And desperate men make mistakes."

A Moment in the Shadows

As Edric left to inform the others, Seraphina lingered near Adrian, the weight of the night pressing upon her shoulders. The adrenaline of battle was fading, leaving behind the ache of exhaustion.

She hadn't even realized how close Adrian had stepped until she felt the heat of him beside her.

"You're hurt," she murmured, glancing at his arm where blood had soaked through the fabric.

Adrian huffed, tilting his head slightly. "It's not mine."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "That doesn't make it better."

He let out a quiet breath, the sharpness in his gaze softening ever so slightly. "You're worried about me."

Seraphina refused to meet his eyes. "You're reckless. Someone has to be concerned about that."

There was a pause, then the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. "You always act as if you have no attachment to me."

She turned to him, brow arched. "And you always act as if you don't care whether you live or die."

Something flickered in his expression. The weight of their unspoken history, of battles fought side by side, of nights like these where the world felt like it was closing in around them.

Slowly, Adrian lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. It was an intimate gesture, one that sent a sharp pang through her chest.

"I do care," he murmured. "About certain things."

She knew what he meant.

Her pulse quickened, but she didn't move away. Didn't want to.

Instead, she lifted her hand, fingers grazing the cut at his temple. "Then start acting like it," she whispered.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might say something—might close the distance between them entirely. But then a sharp whistle from the alley behind them broke the moment, and Adrian exhaled, stepping back.

"Edric is waiting," he said, voice unreadable.

Seraphina nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Let's go."

The King's Move

Hours later, as the fires in the city waned and the rebels retreated into the shadows, a summons arrived.

A royal messenger, flanked by two palace guards, arrived at their hideout under the cover of night.

"The king requests an audience," the messenger announced, voice hollow with forced neutrality. "At dawn. He wishes to discuss terms."

Seraphina exchanged a look with Adrian. Aldric was making his move.

Adrian's lips curved in something that was not quite a smile.

"Good," he murmured. "Let's see what the bastard has to say."

An Unspoken Promise

That night, sleep did not come easily.

Seraphina sat in the dimly lit chamber, staring at the candle's flickering flame. The air was thick with unspoken tension, with the weight of everything that had transpired.

She heard the door creak open behind her and didn't have to turn to know it was Adrian.

"You should be resting," he said quietly.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "So should you."

Silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Adrian crossed the room, lowering himself into the chair beside her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Adrian murmured, "You hesitated back there."

Seraphina frowned, turning to him. "What?"

"When Edric told you Laurent escaped. You hesitated," Adrian said, watching her carefully. "It wasn't just anger. It was something else."

She looked away. Because it was true.

She hadn't spent years planning Laurent's downfall—she hadn't even seen him as an enemy until recently. But the betrayal had been swift and sharp, and now, knowing what he truly was, she wanted him to face justice.

And yet… when she had heard that he escaped, something inside her had paused.

Not relief.

Not regret.

Something deeper.

A sense that this wasn't over. That he wasn't running out of fear, but toward something.

She exhaled, pressing her fingers against her temple. "I wanted him dead. But not like that."

Adrian's gaze lingered on her, unreadable. "Then how?"

She met his eyes. "I want him to confess."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Adrian reached out, fingers barely brushing over hers.

A promise.

Laurent would not escape forever.

And neither would the truth.