Chapter 2: The Plant Died

I survived Chapter Three.

I should’ve been celebrating. Instead I was hiding in a palace bathroom trying to figure out why my hands were shaking.

"That was not meant to happen."

The whisper still echoed in my ears.

Cold. Male. Amused.

And Duke Cassian had heard it too. I saw it in the way his jaw ticked right before he turned and walked away without looking at Elara once.

That was... not in the script.

"My Lady?"

The maid, Mira, poked her head in. "The carriage is waiting. Everyone is leaving."

Right. The ball was over. I had caused a scene by NOT causing a scene.

Now we were going home. Hopefully not to a funeral.

The ride back was silent. Too silent.

When we got home, a sealed black envelope was waiting on my desk. No crest. No signature.

Inside, 4 words in sharp, furious handwriting:

`My study. Midnight. Alone.`

Oh. He was mad. Or suspicious. Or both.

In the book, Cassian didn’t speak to Seraphina alone until Chapter 12. And it ended with her slapped.

New rule: Do NOT get slapped.

I hadn’t even sat down when Mira gasped. "My Lady... your room."

I knew before I opened the door.

My jewelry box was open. My hairbrush was moved. And on my pillow, laid out like a gift, was a single white lily.

Lilies were for funerals.

And tucked under the stem, another note. Messy handwriting.

`Stick to the script or the next plant will be you.`

My blood went cold.

Someone tried to poison me.

Someone saw me ruin it.

Someone broke into my room to threaten me.

And the Duke wanted to interrogate me at midnight.

I should’ve panicked. That’s what Seraphina would do.

Instead I laughed.

Because if I was going to die in this stupid story, I was going to do it on my own terms. Not as a puppet.

"Mira," I said, smoothing my skirts. "Do I look like a woman who follows scripts?"

She blinked. "No, My Lady. You look like a woman who burns them."

Good girl.

Midnight came too fast.

The Duke’s study was dark. Silent. Smelled like ink and cold stone.

And he was already there. Standing by the window, pouring two glasses of water.

Thank the gods. Water.

"You knocked the wine over," he said without turning.

"I have a very dramatic sneeze," I replied.

He turned then. Tired eyes. Hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it.

"You’re not her," he said quietly. "The real Seraphina would’ve drank the wine to spite me. She would’ve screamed at Elara. She would’ve started the fight in Chapter Three."

He took a step closer. "So who are you? And why are you pretending to be a villainess who’s terrible at being evil?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Lying was dangerous. Truth was suicide.

So I deflected. "Maybe I had a religious awakening. Maybe I found the gods. Maybe the broth gave me brain damage. Pick one."

He didn’t smile. But something in his eyes shifted.

"Someone is trying to kill you," he said. "And they’re using the book as instructions."

The book. He knew about the book too.

"And you," he added, holding out the glass of water to me. "You’re messing up their timeline. Which means you’re either my biggest problem..."

He paused.

"...Or my only ally."

Outside the window, a shadow moved across the garden.

And the lily on my pillow suddenly made a lot more sense.

Someone was watching.

Someone was waiting for me to die on schedule.

And they were running out of chapters.