The Blood Court was never silent.
Whispers crawled through it like smoke, curling around pillars carved with serpents, sliding through the ribs of nobles who fed on scandal the way other creatures fed on blood. Tonight, the court pulsed with sharper hunger. A council meeting had been called — urgent, tense — to address the infiltration of masked soldiers.
Kaedan sat on his obsidian throne, expression carved from winter stone, Riven at his right, commanders and nobles arranged in semicircles below.
Ariaxa stood at the foot of the dais, holding Kaedan’s goblet with both hands. Her collar glinted faintly beneath the torches. Her wrists still carried the faint red lines of ritual silk.
She kept her gaze down.
She felt the court’s eyes anyway.
Rumors always traveled faster than truth. Faster than blood. Faster than screams.
Everyone knew she had been taken to Kaedan’s private chambers after the attack.
Everyone knew he had slaughtered soldiers for her.
Everyone knew something inside the Emperor had shifted.
She could feel it now — the nobles’ anticipation, the jealousy, the fear. And somewhere in the crowd, a whisper slid through:
“If the harem is reshuffling… who will die first?”
Ariaxa tried not to shiver.
Kaedan spoke, voice sharp enough to cut stone. “The loyalists reached the inner court. That means someone in this palace assisted them. I want every guard interrogated. Every servant checked.”
A noble bowed. “And the harem, my Emperor?”
Kaedan’s eyes flicked to Ariaxa. “No one touches the harem.”
Ariaxa’s breath hitched. The hall murmured.
The Emperor had rarely — if ever — said such a thing aloud.
Riven stiffened beside the throne.
Before the noble could respond, the doors of the Blood Court slammed open so violently that the torches guttered.
Everyone turned.
A woman staggered into the hall.
Bruised. Dripping with rain. Her gown torn, hair tangled from wind and travel and something far worse.
Seren.
The court rippled with shock.
She stumbled three steps, then collapsed to her knees on the gleaming marble. Blood smeared in the shape of her hands as she crawled forward.
“My Emperor—!” She choked on a sob. “Kaedan—please—please—”
Her voice cracked like shattered glass.
Kaedan’s fingers stilled on the armrest of his throne.
The entire room held its breath.
Seren dragged herself up the steps on her palms, shaking violently. When she reached the base of the dais, she threw herself at Kaedan’s feet.
“Lord Vaelen—he—he kept me in chains—he starved me—he—” Her voice broke into painful hiccupping sobs. “I begged for death, Kaedan. I begged.”
Nobles leaned forward like vipers scenting a wound.
Ariaxa’s grip tightened on the goblet.
Seren’s bruises were real. Her tears were real. Her trembling was real.
So was the hatred twisting her mouth whenever her eyes flicked toward Ariaxa.
Kaedan finally spoke.
His tone did not soften.
“Stand.”
Seren’s crying faltered. “My—my Emperor?”
Kaedan didn’t look at her. “You will be taken to the harem wing. Fed. Cleaned. Treated.”
“And… and after that?” she whispered hopefully.
Kaedan’s voice was cold iron. “You will rest.”
The court murmured again — louder, sharper.
No affection.
No concern.
No fury on her behalf.
Not even curiosity.
Just indifference.
Seren’s eyes widened with dawning horror.
Her hands shook against Kaedan’s boots. “My Emperor—Kaedan—look at me—please—”
He didn’t.
He simply flicked his fingers. “Riven. Remove her.”
Seren froze.
Riven stepped forward, expression unreadable, and lifted Seren to her feet. She swayed, clutching his arm. “He doesn’t care,” she whispered, voice shrill and breaking. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t—”
Riven said nothing as he escorted her out, though Ariaxa could feel the tension in his posture like a drawn blade.
As Seren passed Ariaxa, her gaze turned venomous.
“You,” she rasped.
Ariaxa lowered her eyes, heart pounding.
Seren was dragged out of the court, screaming half-formed pleas.
Kaedan didn’t move.
He addressed the council as if nothing had happened. “Now. We return to the matter of infiltration.”
Ariaxa felt it in her stomach — a heavy, cold, unmistakable truth.
Seren came back to reclaim his attention.
And he gave her nothing.
Nothing at all.
***
Hours later, the harem wing buzzed with whispers as Seren was washed, healed, fed, wrapped in lavender-scented robes. She screamed at the healers. Cursed at the attendants. Demanded Kaedan be summoned.
He never came.
Ariaxa stayed at the far end of the wing, trembling as she washed goblets in the basin. The water rippled each time her hands shook.
She didn’t know what she feared more:
Kaedan.
The loyalists.
Or Seren.
The door to the bathing chamber creaked.
Ariaxa stiffened but didn’t turn.
Footsteps padded across the floor — angry, deliberate, uneven.
Seren.
Her voice slithered through the steam.
“You look comfortable.”
Ariaxa swallowed. “I didn’t expect you would be risen so soon.”
Seren laughed — a cracked, bitter sound. “Oh, I have risen. I have risen better.”
Ariaxa forced herself to turn.
Seren’s face was still swollen along one cheekbone. A thin cut traced her jaw. But her eyes… her eyes burned like fire stoked too hot.
“I suffered for him,” Seren whispered. “I bled for him. I crawled back to him.”
Ariaxa stepped back. “I never asked to replace anyone.”
Seren’s smile sharpened. “You didn’t need to ask.”
She circled Ariaxa slowly, like a predator rediscovering its territory.
“Do you know what I learned in Vaelen’s palace?” Seren murmured, brushing a finger along the rim of the basin. “Besides what hunger feels like. Besides how long a woman can scream before her voice disappears.”
Ariaxa’s breath trembled. “Seren—”
“I learned things,” Seren continued, her whisper spilling over Ariaxa’s shoulder like poison honey. “Ways to kill. Ways to make someone beg. Ways to make someone regret they were ever born.”
Ariaxa’s back hit the tiled wall.
Seren leaned in. Her breath smelled faintly of mint leaves and blood.
“Maybe I’ll practice on you.”
Ariaxa’s heart stopped.
Seren’s smile widened.
“After all,” she whispered, “I owe you for taking what was mine.”