The chandeliers of Valenne Hall glittered with hundreds of candles, their flames swaying in soft rhythm to the slow notes of string instruments. Light flickered across gilded cornices, silk-draped windows, and marble floors so polished they mirrored every step like still water.
The scent of roses clung thick to the air. Real ones. Not the perfumed imitation used by lesser houses. Velvet-petaled, blood-red blooms trailed from crystal vases, wound around balustrades, and floated in wide golden bowls between silver platters of candied fruit and spiced lamb.
It was, in every sense, a masterpiece of power.
And yet I could not breathe.
Not from the corset, though it hugged my ribs like iron and not in the slightest from the weight of the ruby necklace at my throat, a family heirloom too precious to wear except for a night like this.
No. I felt it was something else.
It was not the silence but the stillness beneath the celebration. Beneath the glittering smiles of courtiers, the laughter that didn't quite reach the eyes. Even the musicians, posted near the arched columns, seemed to play more from memory than joy.
Something was wrong.
I turned my face slightly, scanning the room without appearing to. A lifetime of training guided my movements. I stood on the ballroom dais like a jewel displayed in a case, flanked by my younger cousin and the steward of the house. My gown, dyed a deep garnet, shimmered with each breath I took. The court called me the Rose of the North.
Elegant. Rare. Untouchable.
Tonight was meant to be my triumph.
My father, Duke Roderic Valenne, had secured what few dared dream of. A marriage contract between his daughter and Crown Prince Caelan Eltharion. A political union that symbolizes trust between the Empire and the northern territories. I should've felt pride, power and victory.
Instead, I felt I was being watched.
"Is something troubling you?" a voice murmured at my side.
I turned to see my cousin Ellianne, fair-haired and soft-spoken, offering a cup of mulled wine. Her gaze held concern, but her smile remained steady. Trained.
"No," I said after a pause. I accepted the cup and sipped. "Just the nerves."
Ellianne glanced toward the far end of the ballroom. "He's late."
My father was always punctual. Always standing before the assembled court like a lion among jackals. Tonight, he had vanished after the announcement was made.
The engagement was public now. The Empire had received it with applause. Caelan had kissed my hand, smiled before the banners, and given me a ring wrought with the Imperial seal.
But where was my father? And where was Aldric?
My younger brother would never have missed this. Not unless something serious, something dire, had kept him away. He was reckless, yes, but never disloyal.
My fingers tightened on the cup. I felt the tremor in my wrist and forced myself to exhale slowly. There should be no fear. Not here.
Across the ballroom, the prince was speaking with the High Chancellor and two foreign diplomats. He was tall, sharp-jawed, golden-haired. A vision carved to suit paintings and portraits. I watched his posture. Studied the small tells.
His smile didn't reach his eyes either.
"Ellianne," I murmured, "when was the last time you saw Father?"
"This morning," she replied, her voice lowering. "He was in the war room with General Faen. No word since. I asked one of the stewards but they were vague, too vague."
That chilled me more than any winter wind.
In Valenne Hall, no servant was vague. They were trained to be precise and loyal.
Before I could reply, the orchestra halted mid-note.
Not ended but halted…
The music died all at once, the silence falling so fast it felt like a stone dropped into a lake. I turned sharply.
The great doors at the head of the ballroom opened.
Not gently and with flourish. But with a thunderous echo that silenced every whisper, every movement and every thought.
Guards entered.
Not the Valenne Guard, in their silver-trimmed uniforms nor the palace attendants.
These were men in dark steel and black cloaks, bearing the gold-sun insignia of the Imperial Inquisition.
Twelve of them and was armed.
The hall froze. Gasps had filled the room and a wine glass shattered on marble somewhere behind me.
A figure stepped forward from their ranks. Broad-shouldered, face hidden by a half-helm, voice steady with the weight of law.
"By decree of His Imperial Majesty," he announced, "the House of Valenne is under arrest for conspiracy against the crown."
It hit like a blow to the chest.
I could not move. My mouth parted, but no words came out.
A sharp breath beside me. Ellianne swayed. Someone whispered a prayer.
"What is the meaning of this?" Prince Caelan strode forward, the crowd parting around him like fabric. "This is absurd. The Duke of Valenne is loyal to the Empire."
The inquisitor did not flinch. "Your Highness, evidence has come to light. The Duke's forces were intercepted moving restricted arms across the border. Correspondence with the western rebellion has been uncovered. His heir, Aldric Valenne, resisted arrest and was killed."
A scream caught in my throat.
No.
What? Not Aldric. Not my wild, stubborn brother who swore he would never let anyone harm me. The boy who once slept outside my door as a child because I cried in my sleep.
Dead?
No!
The inquisitor turned to me.
"Lady Seraphina Valenne," he said, "you are hereby seized under suspicion of treason. You will be escorted to the capital for questioning."
The guards stepped forward.
I backed away on instinct. "I have done nothing. This is a mistake. My family—"
Caelan reached for me.
For one breathless moment, I thought he would shield me. Speak. Do something.
But he paused.
His hand hovered, fingers inches from mine… and then lowered to his side.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
That was all… two words.
I stared at him as if I didn't understand the language he spoke. This man… this prince who promised me the Empire's future had looked away from me.
The guards took my arms.
I didn't scream or cry.
I kept my head high even as they dragged me away from the ballroom, through the corridors of my childhood, past maids who wept and bowed their heads. My footsteps echoed behind me like drumbeats of war.
As the heavy doors closed behind me, I looked back once.
Lady Lysandra Velmore, my dearest friend, now draped on the prince's arm like an ornament, was smiling.