Elena had learned to walk quietly through the palace.
Not because anyone told her to.But because silence often brought answers.
She heard more that way — the subtle things. Conversations clipped short when she passed, glances exchanged behind fans, names muttered like curses under breath.
Her name.
"The girl with the aura.""A commoner, wasn't she?""They say Lord Lucien trains her personally."
They didn't say it kindly.
Most of the nobles in the northern wing still hadn't accepted her presence. She wasn't born of noble blood. She didn't wear silks. She didn't smile or flatter or pretend.
She trained. She healed. She kept to herself.
And every few days, she faced Lucien in the sparring courtyard like her life depended on it.
It wasn't much of a life, maybe. But it was hers now.
That morning, Mira met her outside her room with a strange look on her face.
"You're wanted in the eastern chamber," she said, arms crossed.
Elena blinked. "Lucien?"
"No. Councilwoman Seraphine."
Elena froze. Seraphine was Lucien's aunt — one of the oldest members of the High Court and a woman known for slicing people apart with words alone.
"Should I change first?" Elena asked.
Mira looked her over. "You'll do. She probably just wants to see what you are."
Wonderful.
Elena followed Mira through the winding halls, her boots clicking softly against polished stone. Her palms were damp. She'd never met Seraphine formally, though she'd seen the older woman a handful of times. Always dressed in deep blue. Always watching like a hawk sizing prey.
They arrived before a set of tall, silver-etched doors.
"She's waiting," Mira said, then gave her the smallest reassuring nod. "Don't flinch."
Elena swallowed hard and stepped inside.
The room was lavish — tapestries, crystal lamps, a carved hearth burning low. Seraphine stood by the window, hands clasped, her white-blond hair braided and pinned like a crown.
"Elena," she said without turning around. "You've caused quite the stir."
"I didn't mean to," Elena replied honestly.
Seraphine finally faced her, eyes sharp as glass. "Intent doesn't matter here. Reputation does. And yours is becoming… inconvenient."
Elena stiffened.
"You've captured the attention of my nephew," Seraphine continued. "That's no easy thing. And certainly no small thing."
"I didn't mean to do that either," Elena said, quieter.
"Of course you didn't." Seraphine studied her. "But you're here now. In his courtyard. His circle. And the others are starting to notice. Some see a girl with potential. Others see a threat."
Elena met her gaze. "What do you see?"
Seraphine's lips curved, just slightly. "A girl who hasn't yet realized how dangerous she could be."
Elena didn't know how to respond to that.
The older woman turned back to the window. "Be careful, Elena. Not everyone will tolerate your presence here as Lucien has."
"I understand."
Seraphine didn't speak again. Dismissal unspoken but clear.
Elena left the room with her mind swirling.
By the time she returned to her wing, the sky had grown overcast. She found Lucien standing in the courtyard again, facing the sky like he was waiting for a storm.
"You spoke to Seraphine," he said without turning.
"You knew?"
"She told me."
Elena walked a little closer. "Is she angry?"
"She's curious."
"I don't think she likes me."
"She doesn't like most people."
A pause.
"She told me I might be dangerous."
Lucien looked at her finally, something unreadable in his gaze.
"She's not wrong."
Elena's heart skipped. Not from fear — but from the quiet, steady way he said it. Like he'd known it long before anyone else had.
"Are you afraid of me?" she asked softly.
Lucien stepped closer, gaze steady.
"No," he said. "But I think you might be afraid of yourself."
Elena looked away. He wasn't wrong. The aura inside her still felt like a fire she didn't know how to hold.
But somehow… when he said it, she didn't feel ashamed.
Only seen.
And for now, that was enough.