Seraya’s POV
The summons arrived just two days after what happened. No explanation. No choice.
I was to return to the palace immediately. Wedding preparations, they said. Discussions of treaties and power between kingdoms. My presence was expected.
I almost laughed. Expected, but not wanted.
The carriage they sent for me was plain. No crest. No royal colors. Just another reminder that my place was now somewhere between guest and ghost.
The halls of the palace hadn’t changed. But everything else had.
When I entered the council chamber, it was already full.
Every lord, every high official sat along the long oak table, draped in Virelia’s crimson banners. The scent of old parchment and heavier perfume filled the room.
And there he was–Caelum.
Seated near the head of the table like he belonged there.
His dark coat was simple but sharp, the sigil of Drosmere stitched at his collar. His arms rested lazily on the table, but his posture said something else: control. Confidence.
He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to. I felt him.
Like the pull of a blade just before it cuts.
I kept my back straight and walked to my place at the far end. No greetings. No welcomes.
The meeting started at once. Long speeches about unity, trade routes, military alliances. Empty words dressed up in gold leaf.
Now and then, I spoke. Calm, measured. Caelum answered when needed, voice low and steady.
To anyone watching, it looked like cooperation. Inside, it felt like a standoff.
The nobles smiled. They clapped when necessary. They praised the “seamless union” between Drosmere and Virelia. They toasted alliances already fraying at the edges. All for show.
When the council dismissed, I stayed behind. I had a stack of revised treaty clauses to review. Busywork, really. A way to pretend I still mattered.
I thought I was alone—until I looked up.
Caelum hadn’t left either.
He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching me like he was studying a puzzle he already knew the answer to.
“You wear the role well,” he said finally. His voice was smooth, quiet.
I didn’t look up. I just dipped my pen into the ink again.
“And you trade women like cattle,” I said without raising my voice. “Is that a family tradition, or just yours?”
His mouth twitched. A smirk, sharp and cold.
“You think you’re different?” he asked. “You think you weren’t part of the same game?”
I slammed the pen down harder than necessary. Ink splattered across the bottom of the page.
I stood, gathering the papers roughly into a stack.
“I’m done playing your games,” I said.
I moved toward the door. He stepped in front of me before I reached it. Not fast. Not threatening. Just… there. When I tried to push past, his hand caught my wrist.
The hold wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t hard. But it was enough to make me freeze.
His fingers lingered too long. His touch was steady. Controlled. I looked up at him slowly.
Our faces were too close. The kind of distance that could turn dangerous if neither of us stepped back first.
“Let go,” I said.
For a second, he didn’t. And then he did—slowly, like he wanted me to feel the decision.I pulled my arm back and didn’t say another word.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me leave in a hurry either.
That night, the palace held a formal dinner. Drosmere and Virelia seated side by side. Red and black banners hung from every archway, silk draping the halls like blood.
The seating chart told its own story. Theron at the head. Elowen at his right hand. Me—half the table away. And Caelum seated directly beside me. Of course.
I kept my eyes forward as servants poured wine into goblets and set the first course. Caelum leaned closer, voice low enough that only I could hear.
“How quickly you were replaced,” he said.
My grip tightened on the stem of my glass, but I didn’t look at him.
“And Drosmere,” I said coolly, “has always had a taste for Virelia’s leftovers.”
His smirk sharpened. A flash of teeth, brief and dangerous.
He said nothing more. I downed my wine in one long swallow while looking straight into his eyes, setting the empty glass back on the table with more force than necessary.
The rest of the dinner passed in slow, heavy silence. I didn’t touch my food. I barely touched the next glass of wine.
I just sat there, surrounded by gold and silk and false smiles, wondering how much more they would ask me to endure before they finally finished breaking me.
