They dressed Seren like a victory they were trying to salvage.
Gold chains at her throat. Fresh kohl ringing her eyes to hide the bruises. A gown of deep violet silk that bared one shoulder and clung to curves she used to wield like weapons. On another night, in another life, she might have glowed.
Tonight, she looked like fury wrapped in perfume.
Ariaxa stood behind her in the mirror, holding a silver tray. She was not allowed to look directly at Seren’s reflection, but she felt the older woman’s gaze slide over her like a blade anyway.
“You’re coming too,” Seren said.
Ariaxa’s fingers tightened on the tray. “Kaedan ordered me to attend as a servant.”
Seren smirked. “Of course he did. Wouldn’t want his new toy out of sight for too long.”
Mirel hovered in the corner, nervously folding a length of ribbon. “Seren, maybe you should rest instead—”
“Rest?” Seren snapped. “After what Vaelen did? After what I saw? I am not resting until Kaedan looks me in the eye and remembers who I am.”
She rose from the stool, every movement controlled and deliberate. For a moment, the fierce, glittering creature she had always been flashed through the bruises and the cracks.
“Let’s go,” she said.
***
Kaedan’s private council chamber was smaller than the Blood Court, but more dangerous. Fewer witnesses. Thicker wards. The walls were lined with maps, blades, and relics from conquered kingdoms.
He sat in a high-backed chair, not quite a throne, but no less commanding. Riven stood to one side, arms folded, expression impassive.
Ariaxa took her place near the wall, clutching the tray with its single goblet of wine.
When Seren entered, she dropped immediately to her knees.
“My Emperor,” she breathed, head lowered. “I beg an audience alone.”
Kaedan’s gaze flicked past her to Ariaxa. “She stays.”
Seren’s shoulders tightened. Then she forced a soft laugh.
“As you wish.”
She rose slowly, making a performance of the movement. The silk of her gown whispered as she walked toward him, hips rolling with old instinct. She stopped just within arm’s reach and tilted her head, eyes bright with calculated tears.
“I missed you,” she said.
Kaedan’s face did not change. “You were gone four weeks.”
“Four lifetimes,” she corrected, voice trembling. “Vaelen—he—he treated me like a dog. Less than a dog. I endured his hands, his cruelty, his boredom—for you.”
Riven’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.
Ariaxa stared at the floor, throat tight.
Seren moved closer. “I thought of you every night. Of your hands, your voice. Of the way you used to call me, the way you used to—”
“That is enough,” Kaedan said.
The words hit like ice water.
Seren faltered, then smiled again, softer, more dangerous. “Do you not wish to see what he did to me?” she whispered, fingers brushing the strap of her gown. “I could show you. I could let you look at what you traded away.”
She slipped the strap from her shoulder.
Kaedan’s gaze did not drop.
“Fix your dress,” he said.
Color burned in Seren’s cheeks. “You used to like when I took it off.”
“I used to like many things,” he replied. “The world changes.”
She laughed, but the sound was too sharp. “Has it? Or have you merely decided you prefer soft, sun-touched things now?”
Ariaxa’s heart slammed.
Kaedan’s gaze flicked to her for a mere second before returning to Seren.
“That is not your concern,” he said.
Seren saw it.
She saw that tiny, involuntary glance.
Her smile broke.
“It is her, isn’t it?” she whispered, voice cracking. “That Sun witch. That pretty little symbol you keep on a leash. You sent me to Vaelen so you could—”
“Enough,” Kaedan repeated, tone cutting.
Seren’s composure shattered.
“I bled for you!” she screamed. “I let that monster touch me because you told me to go! I wore his chains and now you can’t even look at me? You won’t even touch me?”
She stepped forward, fingers reaching for his chest.
Kaedan didn’t move.
He simply lifted his hand and made a tiny dismissive gesture, like waving away smoke.
“Leave,” he said. “You will continue to be fed and housed in the harem. That is all.”
Seren stared at him, trembling.
“That’s all?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“After everything—”
“Be grateful I am not returning you to Vaelen as damaged goods,” he said. “You wanted an audience. You have it. Now go.”
It was cruel.
It was also final.
Seren’s eyes glistened with a fury so hot it seemed to burn away the tears.
Slowly, mechanically, she turned.
Her gaze landed on Ariaxa like a curse.
Ariaxa tried to keep her hands steady, but the goblet shook on the tray.
Seren’s lips curved into something feral.
She walked to the door without another word. Riven opened it. She swept out, spine rigid.
“Ariaxa,” Kaedan said behind her.
She nearly flinched. “Yes, my Emperor?”
“Pour.”
She approached, hiding the tremor in her steps, and tipped the wine into his goblet. His fingers brushed hers when he took it. Just a graze, but it burned.
His gaze lingered on her face longer than was safe.
Riven watched.
The room felt like a noose tightening.
“You may go,” Kaedan said at last.
She bowed and left.
***
Seren waited in the corridor.
Ariaxa didn’t see her until the door had already closed behind her — sealing Kaedan and Riven on the other side. The hallway was empty except for Seren, standing in the shadow of a pillar.
“Were you watching?” she asked, voice eerily calm.
Ariaxa clutched the tray to her chest. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I begged him,” Seren continued, as if Ariaxa hadn’t spoken. “I offered myself. I reminded him of every way I know how to please him.”
Ariaxa whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Seren’s head snapped up. “Don’t you dare say that to me.”
In two strides, she was on Ariaxa.
She slammed her into the wall so hard the tray flew from her hands, clattering to the floor. The goblet shattered, wine splashing dark across the stone like fresh blood.
Ariaxa choked, breath knocked from her.
Seren’s forearm pressed across her collar, pinning her. “Do you know what he did when I tried to touch him?”
Ariaxa shook her head minutely.
“He looked at you,” Seren hissed. “Like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.”
Ariaxa’s voice trembled. “I don’t want—”
“You don’t want?” Seren’s laugh was high and wild. “You have a knife in your rooms. You have the Emperor’s eyes. You survived the loyalists and his fury. And you stand here and tell me you don’t want?”
Her fingers dug into Ariaxa’s shoulder, painful. “He will kill for you. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand what it means for us?”
“Seren, please—”
“Shut up.”
She raised her hand, fingers curling, eyes blazing with the kind of rage that didn’t feel human anymore.
Ariaxa squeezed her eyes shut.
A rough hand caught Seren’s wrist mid-swing.
“Enough,” Riven said.
Seren whirled on him. “Let go of me!”
He pried her off Ariaxa and spun her around, pinning her arms behind her back with infuriating ease.
“You’re hurting her,” he said.
“She deserves worse!” Seren spat, struggling. “She ruined everything! She turned him into— into—”
Her voice broke off into a ragged scream.
Ariaxa slid down the wall, knees weak, one hand pressed to her throbbing shoulder.
“Seren,” Riven said, low and dangerous, “walk away.”
“No!” She kicked back at him, heels scrambling against the floor. “I won’t! I’ll carve that pretty Sun face off her skull, I’ll—”
Riven dragged her down the corridor, ignoring the kicks, the nails, the screams that echoed like something feral and wounded.
“Riven!” she shrieked. “Riven, let me go! She’ll destroy us all!”
He didn’t answer.
They turned the corner and vanished.
Ariaxa sat there, panting, hands shaking, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Seren was no longer just jealous.
She was unraveling.
***
Night in the harem wing was thinner after that.
Slaves spoke in hushed tones, eyes flickering toward Seren’s bed more than once, half-expecting her to spring up and attack someone in their sleep. Mirel insisted Ariaxa sleep near her. Tynia placed a dull knife under her own pillow, just in case.
“You think she’d really kill me?” Ariaxa whispered in the dark.
“Yes,” Tynia said quietly. “Or she’d die trying.”
The wing eventually slipped into uneasy stillness.
Hours passed.
The moon shifted.
At some point, a soft rustle moved through the dormitory. A breeze, a creak, a whisper of blankets.
No one woke.
Not yet.
It wasn’t until dawn’s first gray smear touched the windows that a small, frightened gasp ripped through the dormitory.
Mirel stood beside one of the beds, hand over her mouth.
Ariaxa pushed herself up on her elbows, heart already racing. “What is it?”
Mirel’s eyes were wide, staring at the empty mattress, the rumpled sheets, the bare space where gold chains had been left coiled only hours ago.
“Seren,” she whispered.
The other slaves stirred, murmuring, panic rising like heat.
Ariaxa stumbled closer, stomach dropping into a void.
The bed was empty.
The blankets tossed aside.
The pillow still held the faint scent of Seren’s hair and perfume.
But the woman herself was gone.
Later that night, Seren’s bed is found empty. She has vanished.