บททั้งหมดของ REVENGE AFTER REBIRTH-THE LORD'S FORSAKEN BRIBE: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The palace gleamed brighter than ever, yet Serina had never felt more trapped.Silken drapes billowed across her windows, their threads woven with gold.Servants laid platters of jeweled fruit and honeyed wine before her, bowing low with every step. Lira hovered near, attentive as always, her smile as soft as spun sugar.Guards lingered just beyond the door, silent shadows that followed her even when she walked the gardens.It was a cage.A gilded, perfumed, silken cage.Each morning, her wrists remained bare of iron, yet she felt the invisible weight of shackles. Damien’s decree wrapped tighter than steel: she was never alone, never unseen, never free.Once, she tried stepping into the courtyard unaccompanied. The guards fell into step instantly, their boots echoing her every move. When she glanced back, their eyes betrayed no emotion, only obedience.At meals, Damien watched her as though she were another course on the table, his gaze heavy, his silence louder than words.He did not

The banquet hall glittered with chandeliers, gold spilling from every surface. Laughter rippled through the nobles like ripples on a poisoned pond, shallow and insincere.At the head of it all sat Damien, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable. And beside him, Serina, dressed in silk so fine it shimmered like starlight.A queen in every sense, yet her wrists felt heavy with unseen chains.Throughout the night, Damien’s hand rested at the curve of her chair, a silent declaration. When she lifted her cup, he refilled it himself, his gaze sharp on every noble who dared approach her.It was not affection. It was possession.The whispers began soft, traveling like smoke through the hall.“More hostage than bride…”“Does she smile of her own will?”“Even in silk, a cage is still a cage.”Serina heard every word, each one a blade slipping between her ribs. She lifted her chin, her face calm, regal but her fingers curled against her gown until the fabric wrinkled beneath her grip.

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 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

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