Chapter 14
The flags fluttered fiercely on the edge of the cliff as three thousand iron–armored soldiers surrounded the Shadow Court, leaving no escape.
Seraphine stood atop the arrow tower, her fingertips brushing the bowstring.
This bow, crafted from black iron, had been made for her by Alistair. The bow was etched with delicate roses patterns.
“Prince Valmont,” she drew the bowstring taut, her voice carrying with inner power, echoing across the valley. “Long time no see.”
The arrow whistled through the air, striking the flag rope with deadly accuracy.
“Protect Prince Valmont!”
Lucien raised his hand, halting his anxious guards, his gaze fixed firmly on the dark figure atop the tower.
She had grown thinner over the months, and the silver crown binding her hair gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
“Sera,” he said hoarsely, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Come back with me.”
Seraphine laughed softly, then suddenly removed the pendant from around her neck and shook it lightly. “Prince Valmont, do you recognize this?”
Sunlight pierced through the pendant, revealing the blood vessels flowing inside.
This was the blood pendant unique to the House Frost’s bloodline.
Lucien’s pupils contracted. The image of a portrait from his father’s study, locked away in a secret chest, suddenly flashed in his mind.
The seven–year–old daughter of House Frost wore such a pendant around her neck.
“You…”
Blood surged in his chest, and he coughed violently, spraying a mouthful of blood onto his armor.
“Prince Valmont!”
His guards rushed forward, but were blocked by a dark figure that appeared beside Seraphine.
Alistair had appeared out of nowhere, effortlessly taking hold of her hand as she held the bow.
“Prince Valmont, bringing troops to surround the Shadow Court–are you planning to repeat the mistakes of eighteen years ago?”
Lucien wiped the blood from his lips, his eyes falling on the hands that were intertwined between Alistair and Seraphine.
“When did you and my gauntlet become so close?”
“Your gauntlet?” Seraphine suddenly looped her arm through Alistair’s, smiling. “I’m the current leader of the Shadow Court now, his fiancée.”
Alistair stiffened imperceptibly, but he went along with it, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Once the wedding date is set, we’ll send out invitations. Prince Valmont, if you have time, do come for a drink at our wedding.”
Lucien’s face drained of color.
The mountain wind billowed Seraphine’s cloak, revealing a scar on her waist that had not fully healed.
It was from the Judas Cradle.
Lucien froze, suddenly recalling the image of her retreating figure covered in blood that day.
“Withdraw the troops.”
“Prince Valmont?”
“I said withdraw!”
As he turned away, Lucien cast one last look at Seraphine, nestled in Alistair’s embrace.
The blood pendant at her neck gleamed a glaring red–proof of the House Frost bloodline and also irrefutable evidence of the crimes at Valmont Keep.
Rain tapped against the window as Seraphine tossed and turned in bed.
The image of Lucien coughing up blood haunted her. Fragments of deliberately forgotten memories surged forth.
A winter night when she was twelve–she had cut her arm during sword practice. Lucien had stared at the wound as it healed instantly, his expression unreadable as he burned the bloodied bandages.
Chapter 14
Dreame–Read Romance Stories
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At her fifteenth birthday celebration, among his gifts was a hidden Compendium of Medicinal Herbs, its cover inscribed with a single word: “Hide it.”
Seraphine curled into herself, the old wound from the Judas Cradle throbbing mercilessly in the damp weather.
As cold sweat soaked her nightgown, a pair of cool hands pressed against her forehead.
“You’re feverish.”
Alistair’s voice came softly through the sound of rain.
Half–delirious, Seraphine grabbed his wrist and pressed it against her burning chest. “Uncle…it hurts…” The frantic heartbeat beneath his palm could have been hers
or his.
“Let go.”
–
“No…” She tugged at his collar instead, pressing her cheek against his cool skin. “You feel so nice…”
Alistair’s breath caught, but at her pained whimper, he relented. With one hand, he wrapped his outer robe around her; with the other, he channeled inner energy into her back.
“Uncle, don’t leave…”
Her murmur made him freeze.
Outside, thunder cracked, illuminating the shadows in his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the royal army’s camp…
Lucien compared two imperial decrees under candlelight. One bore the late King’signature, ordering the extermination of House Frost. The other, issued the same year and month, was a relief decree for a famine.
“The brushstrokes are different,” bo
whispered, fingers trembling. “The order to destroy House Frost was forged!”
A guard hurried in. “Prince Valmont, the Chancellor sent a box of items by courier.”
Inside the sandalwood box lay Seraphine’s old belongings–a faded hair ribbon, a dulled dagger, a bloodstained gauntlet insignia…
Beneath them all was an embroidered handkerchief-
one she had made for Lucien at fifteen, when she first learned needlework.
The moment he lifted it, a crimson scorpion darted out, stinging his fingertip.
Lucien slammed the lid shut.
“A Mark of Cain? Now this is interesting…“‘
Chapter 14
