CHAPTER 1: Death is a Cold Teacher

Blood was warm for only a moment.

It trickled down my lips, metallic and bitter, before the cold stone beneath me claimed it. My vision swam, but I could still make out the two silhouettes above me, my husband's handsome face twisted into mockery, and my younger sister’s tear-streaked cheeks, false as ever.

“Why?” My voice was a rasp, barely a shadow of itself.

“Because,” Damien crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from my bloodied cheek like a lover, “you were too blind to see you were just a stepping stone.”

“She believed in you, Serina,” Aria whispered, though her trembling voice cracked into a cruel smile. “And now, I have everything.”

The dagger still jutted from my chest, right where my heart had once beaten for him. My body was dying, but my mind… oh, my mind was burning.

If only I had another chance…

The last thing I heard was Damien’s voice, low and satisfied: “You won’t be haunting me from the grave.”

Darkness claimed me.

And then

The weight in my lungs was gone. The pain vanished. I sat bolt upright in bed, gasping, clutching at a chest that was whole and unscarred.

My fingers trembled as they met smooth skin. No wound. No blood. The silk nightdress clung to me like a second skin, and the air smelled faintly of lilac.

I knew this room.

This was my chamber… ten years ago.

A high-pitched voice knocked the breath from my lungs. “My lady? You’ll be late for your engagement banquet.”

Engagement banquet.

That was the day it all began.

And this time, I would burn the banquet hall to ashes before I let history repeat itself.

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The chandeliers in the great hall burned like a hundred captive suns, their crystals spilling molten light over polished marble. Gold-threaded banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, and the scent of lilies always pressed against my senses.

How strange a room I once adored now felt like a viper’s nest.

I stood at the top of the grand staircase, fingers resting lightly on the smooth oak rail. Below me, nobles swirled in silks and velvets, their smiles lacquered over with the false shine of civility. Their laughter rose in waves, brittle and shallow.

In my first life, I had descended these steps with a heart full of joy, my gaze searching only for Damien, my future husband, my supposed salvation. I had floated through the crowd like a dreamer stepping into her fairy tale.

And I had walked willingly into my execution.

Not this time.

This time, my gown was a weapon. Emerald silk clung to my frame, the neckline scandalously low, each fold calculated to draw eyes and whispers. A thin chain of diamonds lay across my collarbone, catching the light with every breath. My hair was arranged in a style that bared my neck vulnerably, yet deliberately.

Gasps and murmurs rose as I took my first step down the staircase.

“Is that Lady Serina?”

“She’s… never dressed like this before.”

“It’s indecent. The Duke will be furious.”

Let him be. Let them all be. Every whisper was another thread I could pull later.

I allowed myself the smallest, most dangerous of smiles as my gaze sought Damien.

There he was near the central table, wine glass in hand, his broad shoulders squared as though he owned the room. His black hair gleamed under the chandeliers, and that smile, that smile had once made me believe the world itself could be kind.

Tonight, it was nothing but a mask.

Our eyes met across the distance. For just a heartbeat, his expression faltered a flicker of uncertainty that I caught and stored away like a jewel.

Beside him, Aria clung to his arm, her pastel gown the color of innocence itself. Her hair was braided with tiny white flowers, her face the perfect portrait of maidenly devotion. She leaned in, said something to Damien, and the two laughed together.

My sweet sister. The one who would, in ten years, place a dagger in my heart while pretending to weep.

A servant hurried toward me, bowing low. “My lady, the Duke wishes to”

“I am not ready to greet him,” I said, my tone warm but unyielding. “Tell him I am speaking with someone far more important.”

The poor boy blinked, startled, but nodded and scurried away. I stepped off the final stair, the hem of my gown whispering over the marble, and headed toward the far end of the room toward a man who, in my first life, had been ruined by Damien’s ambition.

Lord Cassian Veyra.

He was leaning against a column, half in shadow, a glass of amber liquor in his hand. His dark hair was just long enough to fall over one eye, and his mouth curved in that perpetual almost-smile that promised both danger and amusement.

Cassian the king’s illegitimate son, was a gambler with a reputation black enough to make respectable ladies clutch their pearls. In my first life, Damien had orchestrated his financial ruin, stripping him of title and influence. Cassian had disappeared after that, and the capital had whispered his name only in pity.

But not this time.

I curtsied, just deep enough to acknowledge his rank. “Lord Cassian. I hear you play for high stakes.”

His gaze swept over me slowly, assessing, unhurried before resting on my eyes. “Always. But I wasn’t expecting you to join the table.”

I stepped closer, enough for my perfume to mingle with the smoky scent of his drink. “Some games,” I said softly, “are worth more than gold.”

His lips quirked. “And what are you offering, Lady Serina?”

I let my smile sharpen by a fraction. “The future of the Duke of Morvain.”

That caught his interest.

Before he could reply, the sound of my name sliced through the hum of the room. “Serina!”

Damien approached, Aria trailing at his side like a shadow. His expression was pleasant enough for the audience, but I saw the steel in his eyes.

“You’ve been difficult to find,” he said, his voice pitched low for my ears alone.

“I’ve been… mingling.”

“With Lord Cassian?” His glance flicked between us. “He is hardly”

“Hardly the sort of man a lady should speak to?” I tilted my head. “You mean hardly the sort of man you can control.”

A beat of silence. His hand brushed mine, possessive. “We will speak later.”

“I’m sure we will.”

I turned from him deliberately, reclaiming Cassian’s attention. “We’ll continue our conversation another time, my lord?”

His smile deepened, but his eyes oh, his eyes were sharp as knives. “I look forward to it, my lady.”

As I walked away, I felt Damien’s gaze burning into my back. The first piece had been moved. The game had begun.