Seraya’s POV
I didn’t sleep that night.
The dinner haunted me long after the music stopped. After the servants cleared the dishes and the nobles staggered back to their chambers, full of wine and lies.
Caelum’s smirk still burned in my mind.
“How quickly you were replaced.”
I wanted to forget it. I wanted to forget him. But when the summons arrived just after sunrise, I knew I’d get no peace.
“The war room,” the message read.
“Final treaty revisions. No aides required.”
I dressed slowly. Carefully. Not like someone going to war—like someone being buried in full regalia. When I entered the chamber, Caelum was already inside.
He didn’t stand.
He sat at the far end of the long stone table, a spread of scrolls in front of him. His coat was black again. His expression unreadable.
We didn’t greet each other.
The tension in the room was heavier than it had been two days ago. It pressed in around us, thick as smoke.
I took the seat across from him. The scrolls were waiting—neatly arranged, ink still fresh.
We began in silence. Clause by clause. Trade. Borders. Military terms. Every word designed to look clean, fair, cooperative. But each one scraped at my skin.
“Upon the crowning of Princess Elowen of Drosmere as Queen of Virelia, the ceremonial dowry lands of the previous consort shall return to the crown.”
My lands. My title. Erased in one sentence. My breath stopped. I read it again, slower. My fingers curled against the edge of the scroll.
“I want this removed,” I said.
Caelum didn’t look up. “It’s a marriage clause. Not political.”
“It concerns me.”
“No,” he said, calm. Flat. “It doesn’t.”
I stood. My voice sharpened. “You know he’s added a clause that strips me of my dowry lands the moment your sister is crowned.”
Caelum leaned back against the table, arms crossed. Still unmoved.
“It’s a marriage contract,” he repeated. “Not a peace treaty. You’re not the point.”
I stepped around the table toward him. Every word from my mouth dropped cold.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I was always the point. The disposable one. The one your alliance trampled.”
He didn’t respond right away. His silence said everything.
“You think this is justice,” I said. “But it’s not. You’re angry because no one mourned you when you were erased. Not even me.”
That hit. His jaw tightened. But he still didn’t speak. So I struck harder.
I slapped the scroll off the table. Ink splattered. The parchment landed at his feet, black lines bleeding across the stone.
“You didn’t even look at me, Caelum. Not when your sister smiled at my husband. Not when he announced her like I was already dead.”
He moved fast.
One sudden step, and he was in front of me—closer than he had any right to be. His arms braced on either side of me, hands planted against the table behind, the polished edge biting into my back as I froze. The space between us shrank until it vanished, and the silence roared louder than our argument ever had.
His chest was rising too quickly. As if he’d run from something. Or toward it.
“I didn’t look,” he said, voice rough, barely restrained, “because I knew if I did—”
“You’d what?” I snapped, though it came out softer than I meant. Thinner.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
And then he kissed me.
#Paywall
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful. His mouth crashed against mine like it belonged there, like this was the only way he knew how to silence the fight. It was raw, sudden, and not gentle in the least—teeth scraping, breath colliding, too much too fast.
I didn’t mean to kiss him back.
But I didn’t stop him either.
My hand fumbled for his collar, maybe to push him away, maybe to hold on—I didn’t know. His lips moved against mine again, deeper this time, and a small sound caught in my throat before I could swallow it. Not a moan. Something softer. Uncertain.
He lifted me onto the table—rough, practical, not romantic. My legs parted instinctively as he stepped between them, tension radiating from every line of his body. His hands gripped my waist—not to pull me closer, just to anchor himself, maybe to stop himself from going further.
Then, the door opened. Elowen stood in the doorway like a statue cracked down the middle.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes locked on us—on him.
“You.” Her voice was a mix of shock and fury, yet still soft.
“You promised me you’d behave.”
Caelum froze. His arms dropped from me like the room had caught fire.
“Elowen—”
“I thought you came to keep the peace,” she said.
“Not tear it in half with your cock.”
30
