Beneath the Veneer

Seraphina felt it the moment she woke a shift in the air. Subtle, like a ripple under still water.

Lucien had seen something.

Or remembered something.

And it had shaken him.

She didn't need to ask. His energy was off balance a little more human than usual, a little less emperor. She could feel it through the walls of the house like smoke pressing against glass.

She dressed slowly. A simple black slip dress. Bare feet. No jewelry. Let him come to her.

And he did.

Not at night. Not at dinner. But in the quiet glow of late morning, when the house was half asleep and secrets tended to spill.

He knocked once, then opened the door without waiting.

Bold, as always.

But he paused in the doorway.

Seraphina was by the window, reading. Or pretending to.

She didn't look up. "Didn't peg you for the polite knock type."

Lucien shut the door behind him. "I dreamed of you." That made her pause.

She looked at him and something flickered in his expression. Not power. Not anger.

Recognition.

"You sure it was me?" she asked lightly.

"No," he admitted. "But it had your face."

Her heart skipped once, then settled.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "You were different. There was fire. You said I let them burn you."

Her breath caught just enough for him to notice.

Seraphina stood. "People say all sorts of things in dreams."

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "She said she trusted me."

She walked to him, close enough that the heat between them hummed. "Did she?"

He didn't answer.

Neither did she.

The silence between them stretched tight, taut with things unspoken. She could feel her magic rising not dangerous yet, but coiled.

He looked down at her, eyes unreadable.

"Who are you really?" he asked softly.

And for just a second, her mask cracked.

She lifted a hand , brushed an invisible thread off his collar. "The wife you married," she said sweetly. "Or did you forget already?"

Lucien's jaw clenched. "You're playing a game."

"I learned from the best."

Their eyes locked, and something pulsed between them, not quite desire, not quite danger. A tether.

Suddenly, a vase on the table shattered.

Neither had touched it.

Both of them turned toward the noise. A shard of glass spun across the floor.

Lucien looked back at her.

"You're not the only one hiding something," she said quietly.

And walked past him, leaving the echo of her power in the air like perfume.