A Battle of Wills

Seraphine sat before her vanity, her fingers idly tracing the rim of a silver goblet. Her mind was elsewhere.

Kaelith had made his move.

He was no longer just watching—he was striking.

One by one, her contacts were being silenced. Erased.

And if she did not act soon, she would be next.

A faint rustle of fabric pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned her gaze to the mirror—and found Kaelith standing in the doorway.

Unannounced. Uninvited.

But when had that ever stopped him?

Seraphine did not move. "You make a habit of entering a lady's chambers unannounced, my prince."

Kaelith's smirk was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. "A lady, yes. But you?" He stepped closer. "I think we both know you are something far more dangerous."

Seraphine met his gaze through the mirror, her lips curving. "Flattery, Kaelith? How unlike you."

His fingers found the edge of her chair, trailing along the carved wood. "It is not flattery," he murmured. "It is recognition."

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, his breath warm against her neck.

Seraphine held perfectly still.

He was testing her again. Probing.

"I find it curious," he continued, his tone deceptively light, "that the people I suspect of treachery seem to vanish… just as I begin my investigation."

Seraphine smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Unshaken. "How fortunate for you. Less work, I imagine."

Kaelith chuckled softly. "Indeed." His fingers ghosted over the exposed skin of her shoulder, his touch featherlight—a promise and a threat all at once.

Seraphine's pulse remained steady. She would not let him win.

She turned her head slightly, lips inches from his. "I would be careful, husband," she whispered. "You may push too far… and find yourself tangled in something you cannot escape."

Kaelith's smirk widened.

He liked this game.

But Seraphine knew something he did not.

She was no mere player in his war.

She was a queen in her own right.

And before this was over, he would learn exactly how dangerous she could be.