The Eastern Wing

The air in the corridor grew heavier, thick with something unseen.

Seraphina could feel it pressing against her skin, humming in her bones. The iron door before her remained slightly ajar, revealing only darkness beyond its threshold. But that flicker of silver light—the one she had seen just before Alistair's voice stopped her—had vanished.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Alistair stood at the edge of the torchlight, his face shadowed, his silver eyes unreadable.

"I asked you a question," he said, his voice quiet but edged with something firm.

Seraphina did not answer immediately. She turned her gaze back to the door, her pulse still unsteady. "What is in there?"

A pause.

Then, softly, "Nothing that concerns you."

It was a lie.

She could feel it in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, in the way he had spoken—carefully measured, as if afraid the truth might slip free if he was not careful.

Seraphina lifted her chin. "Why is it forbidden?"

He exhaled through his nose. "Because I said so."

A flicker of irritation flared in her chest. "That is not an answer."

"It is the only one you will receive."

His tone was final, but she was not so easily swayed. She turned back to the door, reaching for it.

Alistair moved before she could touch it.

In an instant, he was beside her, his hand closing gently—but firmly—around her wrist. His skin was warm, despite the chill in the air, and the heat of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"Do not test me, Seraphina," he murmured.

Her breath caught. It was the first time he had spoken her name.

For a fleeting moment, the world around them faded—the frost-covered door, the flickering torches, the eerie hush of the eastern wing. All that remained was the space between them, small and charged with something neither of them could name.

Then, just as quickly, the moment shattered.

Alistair released her wrist, stepping back. "Go back to your chambers."

Seraphina hesitated, her pride warring with her unease. But something in his expression told her that if she pushed further now, she would gain nothing.

Not yet.

Wordlessly, she turned and walked past him, retracing her steps through the dimly lit corridor.

She could feel his gaze lingering on her back, heavy as the secrets he refused to share.

---

Sleep did not come easily.

Seraphina lay in bed, staring at the velvet canopy above her, her thoughts tangled.

There had been something beyond that door. Something that pulsed with light, something that whispered in her bones. And Alistair had stopped her from finding out what it was.

Why?

And why had he looked at her like that—resigned, as if he had expected her to disobey?

She exhaled sharply, rolling onto her side.

She had spent her entire life bending to the will of others—her father, the court, the expectations placed upon a noblewoman. But here, in this strange and haunted place, she would not be another piece to be moved on a board.

She would find out the truth.

One way or another.

---

The next morning, the castle was eerily quiet.

Seraphina dressed quickly, donning a gown of deep blue velvet lined with silver thread. The servants had left a tray of breakfast by her door—warm bread, spiced tea, fresh berries—but she had little appetite.

Instead, she left her chambers and made her way toward the main hall.

Ravenglade Keep was different in the daylight. The eerie glow of the torches had faded, replaced by cold shafts of morning light that streamed through arched windows. The walls, built from ancient black stone, stretched high overhead, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns—ravens in flight, winding branches, symbols she did not recognize.

It was beautiful. And yet, the weight of something unseen still lingered.

She found Alistair in the great hall, standing near the grand hearth. He was speaking with a man she did not recognize—broad-shouldered, dressed in the colors of the keep, with a sword strapped to his hip. A knight, perhaps.

Alistair noticed her before she could announce herself. His silver eyes flicked toward her, unreadable as ever.

"You are up early," he remarked.

"I would rather not spend my days locked away in my chambers," she replied.

A ghost of something—amusement?—passed over his face.

The other man turned, eyeing her curiously. Then he inclined his head in greeting. "Lady Seraphina, I presume?"

She nodded.

"Captain Rhys Lennox," he introduced himself. "Commander of the duke's guard."

She took in his stance, the way his hand hovered near his sword hilt even in casual conversation. A man who trusted few.

"A pleasure," she said politely.

Alistair watched the exchange in silence. Then he turned to Rhys. "Double the patrols along the eastern wing."

Seraphina stiffened.

Rhys frowned. "You suspect something?"

Alistair's gaze flicked toward her before he replied, "A precaution."

A precaution.

Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line. He was trying to keep her out.

"Of course, Your Grace," Rhys said with a nod before striding away.

Alistair turned his attention back to her. "Walk with me."

It was not a request.

Seraphina hesitated, then fell into step beside him as they moved through the hall.

"I am not a prisoner," she said after a moment.

"No," he agreed. "You are not."

"And yet, you lock doors and set guards as if I were."

Alistair exhaled through his nose. "Because you do not listen."

She stopped walking. "Because you refuse to tell me the truth."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, softly, he said, "Some truths are not meant to be known."

She studied him, searching his face for something—anything.

"You think I am fragile," she accused.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "I think you do not yet understand what you are asking."

A flicker of frustration flared in her chest. "Then make me understand."

For the first time, she saw something crack in his expression.

Something tired. Something wary.

And something that almost looked like sorrow.

He turned away, walking toward the towering windows that overlooked the snow-covered cliffs.

"You have one month," he said quietly. "I suggest you do not waste it chasing ghosts."

Seraphina's breath caught.

He was hiding something.

And whatever it was, she had a feeling it was not just his secret alone.

---