Sleep evaded Serina. Even with the curtains drawn and candles snuffed, the ledger’s weight pressed on her like a second heartbeat.She couldn’t rid her mind of the name scrawled within it…Captain Eryndor.But another unease gnawed at her. Lira.Her maid moved with a gentleness that bordered on devotion, yet the memory of her slipping into the chamber at night, hands inside the jewelry box, would not leave her.So Serina feigned rest. She lay still, breaths even, until at last the soft creak of footsteps stirred the silence.Lira.The girl padded toward the door, her shadow gliding along the wall. Serina rose in silence and followed, barefoot across the cold floor.Down the corridor, Lira’s figure disappeared onto the balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens. Serina pressed herself against the stone arch, peering through the sliver of space.A hooded figure stood waiting.Her heart lurched.Lira’s voice was hushed, trembling, but clear enough. “She will choose our side. She must. The se
The palace corridors were quieter than usual, torches guttering in their sconces, shadows stretching long across the stone.Cassian walked a step behind Serina, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt. His presence was steady, protective, yet the silence between them felt heavy with things unsaid.“You shouldn’t walk alone, my lady,” he murmured.She gave a faint, tired smile. “I am never alone. Not truly. Chains make certain of that.”Before Cassian could answer, the hiss of steel cut the air.A figure burst from the shadows, serpent mask gleaming, dagger aimed straight for Serina’s heart.Cassian’s blade was out in an instant. Steel clashed against steel, sparks scattering across the marble floor. He shoved Serina back, his body a barrier as the assassin slashed wildly, every strike aimed not at him but at her.The serpent dagger’s edge nicked Cassian’s arm, crimson spilling across his sleeve. With a grunt, he drove his sword forward, piercing the assassin’s shoulder. The figure
The dungeons stank of damp stone and iron. Torches guttered low in their sconces as guards filed past the rows of cells, dragging in the prisoners from the garden raid.Serina stood at the threshold, flanked by two soldiers, her eyes fixed on the chamber where Neris’s body had been left.It was empty.The pallet where the servant’s corpse had lain was stripped bare, the chains that had bound her limp on the floor. Only the dark stain of blood remained.Damien’s boots struck the stone as he entered behind her, his presence filling the air with fury barely leashed. His jaw clenched, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.“Who ordered the body moved?” he demanded.The captain of the guard fell to his knees, trembling. “M-my lord, no order was given. When the watch changed… she was gone.”The words fell like stones into the silence.Serina’s pulse quickened. If the serpent faction could steal a corpse from the heart of the dungeon, there were more traitors in Damien’s ranks than he da
The serpent mask still dangled in Lord Albrecht’s hand, his smile sharp in the pale lantern light.“You see now,” he murmured, stepping closer, “the serpent is not in the shadows it sits beside the throne.”Before Serina could answer, a scream shattered the stillness.Chaos erupted.Masked revelers poured into the garden, their laughter twisting into shrieks as steel flashed in the dark. Figures in serpent masks lunged from the hedges, blades gleaming.Serina stumbled back as one assassin surged toward her only to be intercepted in a blur of motion.Cassian.His sword met the assassin’s dagger with a ringing clash, sparks flying. “Go!” he barked, his voice raw with urgency.But there was no time. Another figure lunged from the shadows.Damien descended like a storm. His blade sang through the night, cutting the attacker down with brutal precision. His wolf mask was torn, half-bloodied, his eyes burning with lethal fury.Around them, guards clashed with masked intruders, the garden a f
The palace bloomed with light and laughter. Lanterns swayed from gilded arches, perfumed air filled the grand courtyard, and masked nobles twirled beneath a canopy of stars.The Festival of Masks had come on a night where secrets could dance in plain sight.Serina stood at Damien’s side, her gown a cascade of silver silk, her mask fashioned like a crescent moon. Nobles bowed and offered flattery, though their whispers lingered longer than their words.Damien’s hand never strayed far from her arm, his touch a leash disguised as devotion. To the crowd, he was the perfect lord attentive and protective. But Serina felt the iron beneath the velvet.Her pulse quickened as she remembered the serpent’s letter hidden within her sleeve. Midnight. The garden. Wear the mask.Music swelled, lutes and viols weaving through the air. Dancers spun, laughter rising with the beat of drums.Cassian appeared at her side as if conjured by her thoughts. His mask was simple, dark, his presence steady amid
The council chamber buzzed with the low hum of voices, nobles fanning themselves against the summer heat, their jeweled rings flashing as they gestured and argued. At the head of the long table, Damien sat in silence, his gaze sharp enough to still the loudest tongues. Serina sat at his side, her hands folded neatly in her lap, every eye upon her.A servant poured wine into golden cups, the rich crimson liquid gleaming in the light.The discussion had just turned to border disputes when it happened.Lord Veynar, a hawk-eyed noble seated two places from Serina, lifted his cup. He took a long sip then stiffened.A choking sound tore from his throat. His eyes bulged, his face draining of color as he collapsed forward, the cup clattering across the table, spilling crimson like blood across the scrolls.Screams erupted. Chairs scraped back. Servants rushed forward but Damien was already on his feet, his cloak flaring as he moved to assess.“Poison!” one of the nobles shrieked. “The wine”B