SERAPHINE SHADEWALKER
The air in Druumari was thick with tension. Every passing hour seemed to bring more unrest, both within the kingdom and beyond its borders. The threat of war loomed on the horizon, and with it came a sense of urgency that Seraphine could no longer ignore. The alliance between Vyrdantia and Lirandor was still a formidable force, one that could easily crush her kingdom if they chose to strike before she finished preparations. She had to be strategic, calculating, and—above all—decisive.
Yet, as the weight of her decisions pressed down on her shoulders, her mind kept drifting back to Kaelen. The Crown Prince of Vyrdantia. The man who had once been her enemy, the man who had mocked her, taunted her, and defied her at every turn. But now… now he was something more. A tool. A weapon. And perhaps, just perhaps, something more dangerous than that.
It drifted back to the night before, when he met her in her garden. When he proposed such mad thing as to fight the spirits. She knew it would only make it worse, because she had tried that before, and it was followed by grave misfortune. The spirits don't take being defied kindly.
Kaelen's chains had been removed for the time being, but his quarters in the castle were now closely guarded. His freedom was limited, and the threat of a possible reckless escape hung in the air like a constant, unspoken promise. But for now, Seraphine had chosen to keep him under her watchful eye. The information he could offer about Vyrdantia was invaluable, and she couldn't afford to ignore the possibility that he could be her key to tipping the scales in this brewing continental war.
She paced in her study, her mind racing with calculations. The day had been long, and the political pressure was mounting. Word had spread about her capture of Kaelen, now reaching all nine kingdoms of Aeloria, and other kingdoms were already beginning to question what she would do with him. Some whispered that she would execute him, as was her right, but Seraphine knew the value he held. If she killed him, she would lose not only his knowledge but any chance of securing a stronger position in the coming battle. And yet, keeping him as a prisoner could prove dangerous—his defiance was a constant reminder that he was no pawn to be controlled.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a soft knock echoed at the door, and before Seraphine could respond, the door opened to reveal her advisor, Isidora Corvos. The fire mage's presence was commanding, her fiery red hair a stark contrast to the moonlit silvers and purples of Seraphine's castle. But it was her gaze, sharp and knowing, that made Seraphine pause. She could always count on Isidora for blunt advice, and in these times, she needed it more than ever.
"Your Majesty," Isidora began, her voice laced with concern, "I've just received word from the border. Lirandor's troops are massing. They'll be ready to move within the week. It's only a matter of time before Vyrdantia follows suit."
Seraphine nodded, her expression hardening. The time for hesitation had passed. She could feel the weight of every decision hanging in the air. But her mind was still preoccupied with Kaelen. The prince was too dangerous to keep locked away for much longer, but if she were to release him, she would need to be certain of his value. Could she trust him? Could she trust anyone aside from Anna or Isidora?
"Have you spoken with him, Sera?" Isidora asked, her voice dipping with curiosity, her eyes flickering toward the hallway that led to the chambers where Kaelen was being kept. "I assume his… attitude hasn't changed."
She wasn't just speaking as the Queen's advisor, but as the woman who had watched Seraphine grow back when she advised her father instead.
Seraphine's lips pressed into a thin line, and she turned away from the window, meeting Isidora's gaze with quiet resolve. "He's still a thorn in my side, if that's what you want to know, Izzy," she replied. "But his knowledge could be the difference between victory and defeat. If I release him, I need him on my side. I need him to believe in the cause."
Isidora raised an eyebrow. "And what if he doesn't?"
"That's the risk I'll have to take."
"Be careful, my queen," Isidora warned softly. "There's more at play here than just your kingdom's survival. There's a deeper power in Druumari that you can't ignore. And Kaelen… well, he may not be as easily swayed as you think."
Seraphine's gaze darkened. She knew Isidora's words carried weight. The spirits of Druumari were not to be taken lightly, and the curse that bound this land had a way of twisting even the most straightforward of situations. She could feel the eyes of the spirits on her, since they were watching her every move, waiting for her to make the wrong decision. They were always there, far from her, around her, in her head.
If Kaelen thought he had it bad, he had no idea how bad it was for her.
"Have you spoken to the spirits again?" Isidora asked, her voice quieter now.
Seraphine's expression hardened. "As if they allowed me not to speak to them. You know how they are, Izzy, they never give me direct answers, only riddles. And the riddles are not always clear. But they do whisper of change. Of something beyond even me and Kaelen."
She clenched her fists, irritation flickering in her chest. She didn't have time for riddles. She needed answers. Concrete ones.
"I will decide what to do with him," Seraphine said, her tone final. "But I need you to make preparations. If I choose to release him from the cuff permanently, and not just move him into the castle like I did, we'll need to act quickly. He may be of use to us, but we cannot afford to let him slip through our fingers."
Isidora inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of Seraphine's decision. "Understood, my queen. I'll see to it."
As Isidora left the room, Seraphine stood still for a long moment, staring out the window. Her kingdom was on the brink of war, and every move she made was critical. The weight of the throne had never felt heavier, and the eyes of the world were on her. But more than that, the eyes of the spirits—of Druumari itself—were open and watching her with... not-so-quiet judgment.
And then there was Kaelen.
The storm that never stilled.
The man who—despite chains, confinement, and everything she had taken from him—still made her feel as though _she_ were the one on a leash. Not of power or duty, but of something darker. Hungrier. A pull that existed outside reason, strategy, or the throne she'd bled to defend.
She had already chosen, hadn't she? The moment she denied his execution. The moment she ordered him brought to her chambers instead of the gallows. The moment she realized she wasn't just keeping him alive for his knowledge—she was keeping him close, because there was something in him that called to everything unruly inside her. Something that whispered of ruin and temptation in the same breath.
What if I'm wrong? she wondered again. What if I didn't save him to preserve my kingdom—but to lose myself in him?
The thought sent a sharp, almost electric pulse through her chest. She shoved it aside like a dagger she wasn't ready to look at too closely.
Now wasn't the time.
But it was getting harder—harder to ignore the shift in the air every time he looked at her. Harder to pretend she didn't feel the way his presence turned her spine to glass and fire in the same breath.
So tonight—tonight, she would face it. Face him.
As she approached his chambers, a familiar weight settled across her shoulders—not the burden of her crown, nor the war pressing in from all sides. No, this was something else. Heavier. Hotter. The knowledge that once this door opened, nothing between them would be the same again.
The handle turned.
The door creaked.
And there he was.
Kaelen sat near the balcony, the moonlight spilling silver across his bare torso. Leather pants clung low on his hips, and his shirt was nowhere in sight. Shadows carved every line of his body—scars, muscle, tension held tight in a deceptively lazy posture. One leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, hand resting casually on the armrest.
But his eyes—those storm-gray and lightning-gold eyes—were locked on hers the moment she stepped in. Sharp. Unrelenting. As if he had felt her coming before she ever touched the door.
Like he'd been waiting for her.
His voice slid through the room like smoke. "Come to beg for my help, Seraphine? Or…" He tilted his head, gaze raking over her with all the subtlety of a blade slipping beneath skin. "Are you finally here to decide what to do with me?"
Her breath caught, and damn her for it. Because that voice—low and rough and dark with challenge—curled inside her belly like heat pooling low and slow.
She didn't answer immediately. She couldn't. Not when every inch of him, every unspoken word between them, felt like a stormcloud pressing against her skin.
She closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound unnervingly final.
"I've come to make a decision," she said at last, each word carefully measured, though her pulse betrayed her. "You, Kaelen Stormrider, are going to help me decide whether that choice leads to survival… or collapse."
He rose from the chair in one smooth motion—fluid, powerful, like a panther stretching after being caged too long. He didn't close the distance between them entirely, but the space between them shrank all the same, filled with something too thick to name.
Kaelen stopped just shy of her reach, but his gaze wandered—bold and deliberate—from her lips to the curve of her throat, down to the slight tremble of her hands she thought she'd hidden well.
He smirked. "Collapse," he murmured, "has never looked so tempting."
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She should've struck him. Should've reminded him of who she was—what she ruled. But the truth was, part of her wanted him to keep talking. Part of her wanted to hear what else he might say when he forgot the chains. When he remembered what it was like to burn.
"I didn't come here to be seduced by pretty words," she said, though her voice betrayed a slight roughness at the edges.
"And yet," he said, stepping closer, "you haven't walked away."
Seraphine met his gaze—refused to flinch. "Because you still have use."
"Is that what this is?" Kaelen's voice dropped to a husky near-whisper. "Use? Is that what keeps you up at night thinking about me?"
Her eyes narrowed—but her breath hitched again, betraying her.
There was nothing gentle in the way they stared at each other now. This was not affection. This was not trust. It was gravity, violent and all-consuming. It was shared defiance, mirrored fire. And beneath it, coiled like a serpent in the dark—desire.
Unacknowledged.
But there. Unyielding.
He took another step forward. Their bodies didn't quite touch—but they didn't need to. The heat between them was tangible. Like lightning ready to arc.
"You should be careful," she said, voice taut. "The last man who tried to tempt me into his bed left with a blade between his ribs."
Kaelen's smile widened, slow and dangerous. "Maybe I like playing with sharp things."
A long silence stretched between them—breathless, thick with the weight of choices neither of them had the courage or foolishness to make yet.
And then Seraphine turned away. Slowly. Controlled. As if breaking the connection required every ounce of will she had.
But even as she stepped toward the hearth, she felt him behind her. Not moving. Just _watching._
Always watching.
And still, she didn't turn.
Because she knew—if she looked at him now, she might not be able to look away.