Book Seraphina Novels & Stories

I say nothing and Seraphina steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “You know,” she continues lightly, “I almost pity you.” “Almost?” I ask. “Yes.” Her eyes gleam. “Because you still pretend you don’t understand why you are here.” My smile remains even though I do not enjoy the convos anymore. “And why is that?” She leans closer, whispering. “The ritual.” That word again. Seraphina’s voice turns soft and silky.“You are nothing more than a convenient solution,” she says. “A daughter of a traitor with a useful bloodline.”

lingered, a silent reminder that the world was still a place of boundaries. The heavy oak door creaked open, and Seraphina stepped inside. She had traded her blood-stained clothes for one of Czar’s oversized white button-down shirts and a pair of soft leggings. Her hair, usually pinned back in a sharp, professional style, fell in loose, golden waves over her shoulders. She looked smaller in the vast room, but she also looked more present than he had seen her in weeks. “She’s sleeping,or rather resting” Seraphina said softly, her voice carrying a weary kind of peace. “The doctors say her vitals are the most stable they’ve been since… since everything happened.”

I couldn't even hold her eye contact. "Seraphina. What have you done?" "I fixed it, Martha. You can rest now." I could tell she wasn't satisfied with my response. But she had not pushed. She just gave in to sleep with that same sad expression on her face. Now I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself and tried to remember everything about Victoria. The files Richard had given me to study that contained her mannerisms, her preferences, her social history, her personality. Including video clips of her talking, laughing, with friends, by herself. I had studied everything for four days, often testing myself to see if I now perfectly fit as Victoria.

That’s the trouble with honest counting. You never know how large the final sum will be. Seraphina Dane’s last letter arrived at the end of that first season. She was still in the old country, doing exactly what I expected moving from house to house, uncovering truths, unearthing buried wounds, dismantling lies piece by piece. The way she had once watched a human banker do. She said she was well. That she thought of Eleanor often. That after a thousand years of judgment, she had finally found work that felt… right.

That wasn't to say Queen Nox had fully made up her mind on the matter, but there was only so long that her daughters could engage with callers from vetted eligible bachelors before negotiations had to proceed ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ Meanwhile, Seraphina was dressed delightfully in a soft, shimmery dress of black beads that shimmered in the sunlight. Wearing her signature breastplate, with sharper features than her younger sisters, as all Raven women wore daily. The rays enveloped the princess as she sat at the tall window of the library. A red leather-bound book with a gold inscription stamped into the cover was clasped tightly in her hands. The light danced off of the beads in a splendid fashion, casting

he added. No title. No explanation. Just she. I didn’t need to ask who Seraphina is unpredictable. You would never be able to tell her next move. Seraphina was already seated as I entered the hall. She was dressed in formal robes—white and silver—and her crown crooked on her head like she hadn’t bothered to fix it. Her eyes looked sunken, like she hadn’t slept at all. Because she hadn’t. I sat silently beside her, like I always did. But inside me, I couldn't stop thinking back to that day the high priestess met me at the garden.

Yours — always a little too much, Seraphina