Content Warning
This chapter includes explicit sexual content, depictions of injuries from a prior assault, and emotionally charged intimacy used as grounding after trauma. Please read with care.
------------------------------------------------
POV: Seraphina
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Seraphina stood outside the signing chamber with Caelan's warmth solid at her back. The bruises on her jaw throbbed where Alaric had gripped her. Her wrist ached where he'd grabbed her hard enough to leave marks.
She could still feel his lips brushing hers. The memory made her skin crawl.
"You don't have to do this today." Caelan kept his voice low. "Eleanor would understand."
"I've waited long enough. I'm not delaying this."
The doors opened. A palace steward bowed and gestured them inside.
Eleanor sat behind a long table with documents spread before her. Two court scribes flanked her with quills ready. Thalion stood near the windows with his arms crossed and his jaw tight.
He didn't look at her when she entered. Whatever had passed between them in the garden hung in the air, unacknowledged.
"Duchess D'Lorien." Eleanor's voice cut through the tension. "Please, be seated."
Seraphina took the chair across from the Empress. Caelan settled beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. The trial at Whitehall had taken her ability to feel his emotions along with ten years of their lives, so she read his body language instead: the controlled stillness, the way his eyes tracked every movement in the room.
"The incident in the garden has been documented," Eleanor said. "Duke Vessant's assault on your person. His use of detection magic to probe your mind without consent. His violation of Crown directive. The witnesses have provided sworn testimony."
"Where is he now?"
"Detained in the palace holding chambers pending formal charges." Eleanor's expression stayed neutral. "His actions today have strengthened our position regarding the broader investigation."
Something loosened in Seraphina's chest. She wasn't relieved yet, but Alaric wasn't free to come after her.
"The provisional separation I granted yesterday remains in effect. Today's signing formalizes the administrative requirements." Eleanor slid the first document toward her. "Once these bear your signature, the seven-day waiting period officially begins."
After eighteen months of fraudulent marriage, seven days felt like nothing and everything at once.
"The terms are as we discussed. You retain full ownership of all D'Lorien properties and assets. The marriage contract's original provision stated you would maintain your family name and duchy title. That provision is honored."
Eleanor knew about the Celestine heritage now. What she didn't know was what it truly meant: the regression, the execution, the second chance that burned through Seraphina's veins.
"House Vessant assets remain frozen. Crown Prince Thalion will continue to oversee the inquiry into the systematic bloodline eliminations."
At the sound of his name, Thalion turned from the window. His eyes found hers.
The pull flared again.
She saw him feel it. His breathing hitched. Recognition and resistance flickered across his face. The same war she felt in her own blood.
Then he looked away.
"The documents, Duchess." Eleanor's voice pulled her back. "Whenever you're ready."
Seraphina rose and moved to the signing table. The pen waited in its holder. Every word on those pages had been crafted to dismantle eighteen months of lies.
She thought of the girl she'd been at fourteen when her parents died. Orphaned and grieving, then six years later handed to a man she barely knew. She'd walked into that marriage believing she could make it work. Believing that if she was good enough, quiet enough, perfect enough, Alaric would eventually love her.
That girl had died on the execution pyre.
The woman who survived would never shrink herself again.
She picked up the pen and signed her name in steady strokes. Seraphina D'Lorien.
She signed the second document, then the third. Every signature felt like a promise to herself.
When she set down the pen, her hands had stopped shaking.
"It's done." Eleanor applied her imperial seal to each document. "Seven days from today, your marriage will be dissolved."
Seraphina exhaled slowly. The weight she'd carried for eighteen months hadn't disappeared, though it had shifted into something she could finally release.
"You're dismissed," Eleanor said. "Complete your remaining trials. The realm's stability may depend on a fully awakened Flamebearer more than any of us anticipated." She paused. "The investigation into the altered imperial records continues alongside the inquiry into House Vessant. Someone falsified genealogical archives for over a century. When we discover who, they will answer for it along with Alaric Vessant."
Eleanor held her gaze for a moment longer.
"There is also the matter of your bloodline's claim to the throne. The Warden Empress lineage carries implications we cannot ignore indefinitely. Once your trials are complete and the immediate crises are addressed, you will be summoned to discuss what your heritage means for the succession." Her voice was measured but firm. "That conversation will happen, Duchess. Expect my summons."
Seraphina bowed. She turned toward the door.
"Duchess."
Thalion's voice stopped her. He still stood near the windows, backlit by afternoon sun.
"The investigation will require coordination. Your mother's research. Your father's documentation. I'll need access to those materials."
"Duke Vorenthal can arrange copies."
"I'd prefer to coordinate directly." His jaw tightened. "When you've recovered from today's events."
His words were formal even though the undercurrent was anything else. She saw Caelan shift beside her, his attention fixed on Thalion with dangerous intensity.
"I'll make myself available, Your Highness."
Their eyes held for a moment too long. The connection pulsed between them, unwanted and undeniable.
She tore her gaze away and walked through the door.
Caelan fell into step beside her. His hand found the small of her back as they moved through the palace corridors.
Neither spoke until they'd turned down a quieter passage, away from the main thoroughfare.
"He felt it." Caelan's voice was low. "Whatever happened between you in the garden. He's still feeling it."
"I know."
"Are you?"
She stopped walking. Turned to face him. The afternoon sun caught the sharp planes of his face, the concern in his dark eyes, the steady strength that had held her together through everything.
"Yes," she admitted. "And I hate it."
Something flickered in his expression, something rawer than jealousy.
"I need you." She grabbed his coat and pulled him closer. "I need you to make me forget it exists. Right now. I need your hands on me until I can't feel anything else."
His eyes darkened. "Here?"
"Somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care where, I just need you."
He glanced down the corridor, checking for witnesses. Then his hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her toward a side passage she hadn't noticed.
"Come with me."
He moved through the palace like he'd memorized every corner. Down the passage, through a door marked with a faded symbol, up a narrow staircase that servants probably used. The sounds of the palace faded behind them.
He stopped at a plain door at the top of the stairs and produced a key from inside his coat.
"You have a key to a random palace room?"
"Three months stationed here during border negotiations. The quartermaster owed me a favor."
The room was small with a sitting area near a cold fireplace, a narrow bed against the far wall, and a window overlooking the gardens from high enough that no one would think to look up.
Caelan closed the door and turned the lock.
The sound of the bolt released something in her chest. They were private and safe here, with no witnesses, no politics, no Crown Prince making her blood burn against her will. Just them.
She was on him before he finished turning around. Her fingers found the edge of his mask first and pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor. She wanted his whole face. Wanted to see every expression he made.
Then her mouth crashed into his with every ounce of frustration and want she'd been carrying since the garden. Her fingers fisted in his coat, dragging him closer, and he groaned against her lips.
He kissed her back just as hard, one hand gripping the back of her neck, the other pulling her hips flush against his. She could feel him already hard through his trousers.
"Sera." He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe her name, then captured her mouth again.
She shoved him backward until his legs hit the chair. "Sit."
He sat and she climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, her skirts pooling around them. His hands found her hips immediately, gripping hard enough to bruise through the layers of cloth. She kissed him again, deep and hungry, her tongue sliding against his.
"I need to feel you," she gasped against his mouth. She ground down against him and felt him twitch beneath her. "I need you inside me right now."
He answered by kissing her harder, his hands finding the laces of her bodice and yanking. The fabric loosened enough for her breasts to spill over the top, pushed up by the boning beneath. He groaned into her mouth at the sight and palmed them immediately, thumbs dragging across her nipples while he kept kissing her.
"God, Sera." He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing hers. "We should slow down."
"No." She kissed him again, biting his lower lip. She reached between them and worked his trousers open with shaking fingers. "I don't want to wait or think. I just want this."
She freed him from his underwear and wrapped her hand around his cock. He hissed against her mouth, hips jerking up into her grip, and she swallowed the sound with another kiss.
"I can't hold back." He grabbed her wrist, breaking the kiss to look at her with desperate eyes. "If you keep doing that I'm going to lose it."
"Then get inside me."
She lifted up on her knees. He shoved her skirts higher, bunching fabric around her waist, and pulled her underwear aside rather than removing them. His fingers found her already soaked.
"You're so wet." He kissed her throat, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.
"I've been thinking about this since you locked that door." She pulled his face back to hers and kissed him deeply.
He guided himself to her entrance while still kissing her. She sank down in one smooth motion that made them both groan into each other's mouths, and the feeling of being full and stretched and complete made her gasp against his lips.
She didn't give herself time to adjust. She started moving immediately, riding him hard and fast with her hands gripping his shoulders. The chair creaked beneath their combined weight. Her skirts tangled around them, hiding where their bodies joined but doing nothing to muffle the slick sounds of her taking him over and over.
"Fuck." He broke the kiss, head falling back. "Sera, slow down, I'm not going to last."
She grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth back to hers. "Don't care." She kissed him between words, moving faster, grinding her clit against him with every downstroke. "Come inside me. I want to feel it."
His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to leave marks through the fabric. He started thrusting up to meet her, matching her desperate rhythm, and the new angle made her cry out against his mouth.
"Right there." She panted the words between kisses. "God, right there, don't stop."
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes and found his locked on her face, dark with need and desperate with love and completely present.
"You're mine," he growled against her lips. "Whatever that pull is, whatever your blood thinks it wants, you're mine. Say it."
"Yours." She kissed him hard. "I'm yours, Caelan." Another kiss, deeper. "I've always been yours."
He surged up and claimed her mouth completely, swallowing her moans as his thumb found her clit beneath the bunched fabric. The pressure was too much. She shattered around him with a cry that he caught with his kiss, her whole body clenching as the orgasm tore through her.
He followed seconds later, groaning her name into her mouth as he spilled inside her. His hips jerked through the aftershocks, each pulse of his release making her gasp against his lips.
They stayed there, tangled together in the chair, still kissing slowly as they both came down. Soft now, gentle, trading breath back and forth. Her forehead dropped to his. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
She was still fully dressed. He was still mostly clothed. They'd barely made it through the door before she'd needed him too badly to wait.
"Better?" he asked against her mouth, voice hoarse.
"Getting there." She kissed him again, soft and slow.
His hand slid up her spine beneath her loosened bodice. "We have time. The carriage can wait."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. His expression was soft in a way he rarely showed anyone else.
"Again?" she asked.
"As many times as you need."
She kissed him slow and deep, feeling him start to harden again inside her. The pull toward Thalion still existed somewhere in her blood, unwanted and unexplained. Here, with Caelan's arms around her and his body joined with hers and his mouth on hers, it faded to nothing.
They left the palace as the sun began to set.
Seraphina walked beside Caelan through the courtyard, her body pleasantly sore, her clothes straightened but her hair still slightly disheveled. He kept his hand on the small of her back. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to.
The carriage waited where they'd left it. The driver had the good sense not to comment on their delay.
Seven days until her divorce was final and she was legally free.
She'd already chosen her freedom when she came back, when she chose revenge over surrender, when she chose the man beside her over the life that had killed her once before.
The signing was just paperwork. This was real.
As the carriage pulled away from the imperial palace, Seraphina glanced back at its gleaming spires. Somewhere inside, Alaric sat in a holding cell. Somewhere inside, Eleanor was already planning their next conversation about succession. Somewhere inside, Thalion was thinking about a pull he didn't want to feel.
She turned away and leaned into Caelan's shoulder.
Everything should have felt finished. Settled. Safe.
So why couldn't she shake the feeling that somewhere, something had just been set in motion?