The Weight of Secrets

Seraphine felt the shift immediately.

Lyria was quieter than usual, her movements tense. The guards near her chambers no longer felt like protection—but like walls closing in.

Something had changed.

Seraphine dismissed her attendants early that night, leaving only Lyria behind. She watched as the young maid nervously twisted the edge of her apron.

"Tell me," Seraphine said softly. "What have you heard?"

Lyria hesitated.

Then, in a whisper, she said, "The prince… he has been watching the servants. Asking about me."

A chill ran through Seraphine's spine.

Kaelith was closing in.

She reached for Lyria's hands, steadying them between her own. "Has anyone questioned you directly?"

"No, my lady," Lyria whispered. "But the steward has been asking about my movements. And I—I think someone followed me two nights ago."

Seraphine exhaled slowly.

It was worse than she thought.

Kaelith was not just suspicious—he was hunting.

And soon, he would find exactly what he was looking for.

She had to act. Now.

Seraphine's grip tightened on Lyria's hands. "Listen to me carefully. If anyone asks, you know nothing. Say nothing."

Lyria swallowed hard but nodded.

Seraphine gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Good girl. Now go. And don't speak of this again."

As Lyria left, Seraphine turned to her window, staring at the darkened palace below.

She had two choices—wait for Kaelith to strike, or move first.

And Seraphine had never been one to wait for the storm.

She was going to bend the winds in her favor.