Chapter 2

A cold stillness filled the air.

Seraphina stood motionless, surrounded by a heavy silence that spoke only one truth—this was not a marriage. It was a cage.

Slowly, she turned, taking in her surroundings. The chamber was vast, yet there was an eerie chill to it, as if loneliness itself resided here. Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a faint glow across the floor, but even that light carried a quiet sorrow.

In one corner stood a grand bed—its white silk sheets perfectly smoothed, untouched, without a single crease. As if no one ever slept there. Across from it, a large mirror reflected her image, showing her exactly as the world saw her now—a prisoner.

She stepped forward, running her fingers over the bed's surface. Cold. Just like the man who had placed her here. Aldric.

A slow, sharp smile curled on her lips. Do you think this cage will break me? she whispered to herself. You're wrong, Aldric.

With steady steps, she moved toward the window. The towering panes stretched from floor to ceiling, framing the world outside. She brushed aside the curtain and peered down. Below, the city lights flickered like scattered stars, but their warmth never reached her.

For a moment, she simply stood there, taking a deep breath. Then, pressing her fingers against the window's edge, she pushed firmly.

Locked.

Not just closed—bolted shut.

A cage.

Seraphina let out a quiet chuckle. You can lock me in, Aldric… but you will never make me restless.

Turning away, she walked back to the bed, brushing her long hair over one shoulder as she sat down gracefully. Her posture was relaxed, as if she were merely a guest examining her new home. But beneath her composed exterior, her mind was racing—analyzing every exit, every weakness.

I was never meant to be prey… only the predator.

A gust of wind stirred through the room once more. But this time, something felt different.

As if someone was watching her.

Yet, Seraphina simply closed her eyes. If someone is watching me, she thought, then I should be watching them too.

Nightfall cast a dim haze over the palace. The flickering torches along the stone walls sent trembling shadows dancing across the surfaces, as if even the very walls quivered in the presence of an unseen truth.

Aldric stood in silence inside his war chamber. Before him lay a vast map—one that marked his kingdom, his conquests, his enemies. Each border bore his insignia, a declaration that everything under its reach belonged to him. And yet, tonight, a single woman had unsettled his mind more than any enemy ever could.

Seraphina.

Her name seeped into his veins like slow, burning poison.

The heavy wooden doors swung open with a dull thud. Eryndor stepped inside, his footsteps barely making a sound, as if he too understood that this room belonged to solitude.

"Was this truly necessary?" Eryndor's voice was calm, but laced with quiet reproach. "She's just a woman, Aldric. And remember this—she is not her father."

A sharp current ran through Aldric's veins. His fingers pressed against the table's edge, tightening into a fist. His father's name—his mother's murderer—was forbidden in this chamber.

But the mind does not obey the laws of silence.

—Flashback—

Smoke.

A young Aldric stood gripping his mother's hand. The stench of blood thickened the air. Before him, the palace burned, flames licking the sky like the wrath of a vengeful god. And above all, a single scream—his mother's—as a sword pierced through her chest.

Seraphina's father had killed his mother.

And tonight, that murderer's daughter stood inside his palace, wearing his ring.

—Present Day—

Aldric clenched his fist tighter, as if forcing his grief and rage back into the abyss where they belonged.

Eryndor studied his face carefully. "If you think this is just about revenge, then you're mistaken, Aldric. You've bound her to you in marriage for vengeance, but… sometimes wounds are inflicted not by swords, but by emotions."

Aldric's expression remained stone-like, but in his eyes, a storm brewed—one that only appeared in the skies before the first bolt of lightning struck.

"If you think she's just a woman," Aldric said, his voice low but edged with an unsettling certainty, "then you're wrong, Eryndor."

Eryndor hesitated for a moment as if searching for the right words. But in the end, he only gave a slow nod before leaving the room.

Aldric was alone once more. And solitude was where he felt the weight of his greatest battle.

Seraphina.

Her image refused to leave his mind. Those fearless eyes. That defiant smirk, as if nothing in the world could touch her.

Aldric exhaled slowly, absently twisting the ring on his finger.

"Are you planning to ruin me, Seraphina?" he murmured to himself. "Let's see… who falls first."

The room was quiet, but the air carried an unfamiliar tension. The torches burned low, casting elongated shadows on the polished stone floor. The sheesham doors stood tall, their dark reflections stretching like silent sentinels.

Aldric walked toward his private chambers, his steps measured and deliberate. His heartbeat remained steady, yet something deep inside him stirred with an unease he refused to acknowledge. She was just a woman—his enemy's daughter, a prisoner bound to him by force. And yet… something about her presence unsettled him.

The door creaked open.

Aldric stepped inside and was met with a sight that made him pause.

Seraphina lay sprawled across his bed, her posture entirely at ease, as if she were a guest in an inn rather than a captive in an enemy's castle. Her delicate fingers traced idle patterns over the silk sheets, playing with the fabric like it was just another battlefield.

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips—not of submission, but of challenge. A silent war waged beneath that seemingly playful expression.

Aldric studied her for a moment before stepping forward. The door closed softly behind him, sealing them inside a thickening tension.

"You look far too comfortable." His voice was ice.

Seraphina gave a small, careless smile. "I make a home wherever I go. Whether it's a prison or a palace."

His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes darkened slightly. He moved closer, standing near the edge of the bed. She didn't flinch, didn't move away—as if waiting for the hunter to close in on his prey.

Then, without warning, Aldric seized her wrist. A firm, unyielding grip. The first declaration of control.

"You think this is a game?" His voice was a low growl, edged with fire.

Seraphina tilted her head, her smile deepening. "Not a game, Aldric. A war."

Silence hung between them like a blade poised to strike. The torchlight flickered across his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched slightly—just enough to betray the conflict within him.

He was close enough to feel her breath against his skin.

Then, just as suddenly, Aldric let go. A sharp, abrupt motion, as if shaking off something dangerous.

"You will regret this," he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less lethal.

Seraphina only smiled. "Then let's see who falls first."

Aldric held her gaze for a long, burning moment before turning sharply. The door slammed behind him, his scent—power and danger intertwined—still lingering in the air.

For a moment, Seraphina sat still. Then, with practiced ease, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small hidden dagger.

She twirled it between her fingers, a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

"Let's see who really holds the rope, Prince."

But beyond the thick walls of the chamber, in the shadows of the corridors, someone was watching.

A hushed whisper echoed in the dark—cold, ominous.

"She does not belong here. She must be removed."

A strange tension lingered in the royal chamber, like a breath held too long, like the hush before a tempest. Even the moonlight filtering through the ornate windows seemed hesitant, as if waiting for something to unfold.

Seraphina sat alone, idly tracing the threads of the embroidered carpet, though her mind was elsewhere. This palace of glass and marble was a master of deception—everything here gave the illusion of stillness, of permanence. But she knew the truth. These walls weren't just stone; they were riddled with secrets.

She slowly uncurled her fingers, revealing a small, gleaming dagger hidden in her palm. A quiet, knowing smile ghosted across her lips.

"I am not a passing breeze, Aldric. You have no idea what I truly am."

But then—something changed.

A prickling sensation ran down her spine, making her breath still in her throat.

Someone was watching her.

She felt it—the weight of an unseen gaze, the cold, creeping chill that only came when danger lurked in the shadows. Her heartbeat quickened, but she schooled her expression, refusing to let even the walls witness her unease.

Slowly, without a sound, she rose and walked toward the window. The night outside was dark and vast… but it was not empty.

Something was there.

Or rather—someone.

For a single, suspended moment, everything stood still.

And then she saw it.

A shadow—a tall figure, his face hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. He did not move, did not step forward, yet his presence was undeniable. The only proof of his existence was the faint scent of earth and the whisper of the wind curling around him.

Then, through the crushing silence, a voice—low, rasping, and laced with quiet menace:

"This girl cannot stay here. She must be removed."

Seraphina's fingers tightened around the dagger's hilt, her grip turning to steel.

A slow, sharp smile curved her lips—one that only enemies glimpsed before battle.

"If you've come to get rid of me..."

"Let's see who falls first."

The palace night was no longer just a night.

It was the beginning of war—a war not just of swords, but of wit and will.

And Seraphina had never learned how to lose.