Chapter 4: The Emperor's Shadow

"A kingdom ruled by fear is a kingdom full of traitors waiting for the right moment."

---

The palace did not sleep.

Seraphina learned that quickly.

Even in the late hours of the night, whispers ran like ghosts through the marble halls. Servants moved in silence, their heads bowed, their footsteps light. Guards stood like statues, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

Yet, despite the stillness, something felt wrong.

She was being watched.

Not by the guards.

Not by the servants.

By something else.

She could feel it—the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin.

But she did not react.

Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea.

If they were watching her, let them.

Let them wonder why she was not afraid.

---

Far across the palace, Xavien Draethis watched.

From his private chamber, he sat before a massive obsidian window, his golden eyes flickering as he observed the distant silhouette of the east wing.

She was still awake.

Interesting.

He had expected the first night to break her.

Expected her to sit in that grand, lonely room and realize the weight of her new reality.

Expected her to weep.

Yet, she had done nothing of the sort.

Instead, she drank tea.

"Bold little thing."

He exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk. A dozen reports lay scattered before him—updates on trade, military movements, diplomatic tensions.

But none of them held his attention like her.

Seraphina Elyssar.

His wife.

His prisoner.

His problem.

Xavien did not like problems.

He liked order. Control. Structure.

And yet, from the moment Seraphina had stepped into his court with that infuriating smile, his control had felt... unsteady.

He had meant to make her insignificant. To push her so far into the shadows that she became a forgotten relic of a political deal.

But Seraphina was not the type to fade.

He could feel it in his bones—she would not make this easy.

A sharp knock echoed against his door.

Xavien didn't look up.

"Enter."

The heavy doors creaked open, and General Valen Maro stepped inside.

His most trusted commander.

His only true friend.

"The court is restless," Valen said without preamble, his voice low and edged with warning.

Xavien finally lifted his gaze. Restless?

He gestured for Valen to continue.

The general sighed. "Your marriage was meant to be a display of power. A reminder to Elyssar of their place beneath us." He hesitated. "But the court does not see it that way."

Xavien's gaze sharpened. "And how do they see it?"

"As a threat."

Silence.

Valen stepped closer, his dark eyes flickering with unease. "They do not fear the girl. They fear what she represents. Elyssar has never yielded to anyone. Now, suddenly, their princess is here, living within these walls. The nobles whisper that she is a Trojan horse—that she is meant to spy, to soften you, to weaken you."

Xavien exhaled through his nose.

He should have expected this.

His court was filled with schemers.

They feared nothing more than change.

"Let them whisper," he muttered. "Let them plot." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes returning to the east wing. "They will learn, soon enough, that no one controls me."

Valen hesitated. "And if the Empress becomes a target?"

Xavien's fingers stilled.

Something dark flickered across his expression.

"Then they will learn another lesson," he said, voice like steel. "What happens to those who touch what is mine."

---

Back in the east wing, Seraphina felt the shift.

The air in the palace had changed—like the tightening of a noose.

She set down her tea, eyes narrowing.

Something was happening.

Something she could not see yet.

But she would.

Soon.