A Perilous Trap

Seraphine barely had time to react before the doors to her chambers burst open. The torchlight flickered violently, casting long shadows against the walls as armored figures stormed inside.

The palace was under attack.

Her hand instinctively went to the dagger hidden beneath her gown, but before she could unsheathe it, a strong arm wrapped around her waist. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream.

"Shh, Princess," a deep voice murmured against her ear.

Seraphine's blood ran cold.

Veylan.

She thrashed against his hold, but he was stronger—far stronger than she anticipated. He spun her to face him, his piercing gaze locked onto hers with a dark amusement.

"You look surprised," he mused, fingers trailing along the edge of her collar. "Did you really think I wouldn't come for you?"

Seraphine wrenched herself free, stumbling back, her dagger now in hand. "You'll regret this."

Veylan only smiled. "Oh, I doubt that."

The sound of steel clashing echoed from the corridors outside. Kaelith. He was fighting his way to her.

But would he be fast enough?

Veylan advanced, his movements unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "You don't even know why you're important, do you?" he murmured. "What a shame. Your father kept too many secrets."

Her grip tightened. "What are you talking about?"

Veylan sighed. "I suppose you'll learn soon enough."

Then he lunged.

Seraphine barely managed to block the strike, their blades clashing with a screech of metal. She had to hold him off—had to survive until Kaelith arrived.

But deep down, a horrifying thought took root.

What if Kaelith was already too late?