The morning was muted, as though the palace itself held its breath in anticipation.
I remained seated on my carved jade dais, wrapped in the soft jade-green robe the palace seamstress draped over my shoulders.
It was cool against bare skin, almost comforting in its silence.
Around me, servants moved quietly, smoothing pleats, adjusting sleeves, fastening hairpins.
Elise hovered behind, steady as always.
Each delicate touch reminded me that this wasn't kindness, this was preparation.
Every silk tie, every delicate sound, was training me for the banquet ahead.
The banquet. Full of faces carved in porcelain masks. The King. The Queen Dowager. Lucien's brothers. Ministers. And Lucien himself.
I despised every one of them.
But duty drew me there nevertheless.
As the maids fastened the final sash, one of them dropped a tray of jade teacups.
Ceramics struck stone.
A sharp, hollow crash echoed in the chamber.
My hand twitched.
Each second stretched, elastic with quiet rage.
She froze. Her lips parted.
The teacups lay broken underfoot.
I did not speak.
I only watched.
She quaked. Bowed.
Wished herself invisible.
I stiffened.
For a moment, I raised my hand as though to strike.
But then… I lowered it again.
I didn't feel pity.
I simply… wasn't in the mood.
When the rest of the maids parted to give me space, I rose from my seat.
In the mirror's reflection, eyes calm, expression vacant, I reminded myself that every step i took was watched.
Every breath measured.
When i left the chamber, they followed on silent feet.
Let them fear.
The halls leading to the banquet were draped in crimson silk.
Lanterns hung like suspended embers. Incense sandalwood, jasmine swirled under foot and heavy in the air.
Guards bowed as i passed.
Their expressions tight, guarded. Respect tempered with dread.
Elise stood just behind me.
I felt her presence, not a comfort, but quiet assurance.
We stopped before the massive doors. I inhaled.
They opened with a hushed whisper.
Inside, the hall was vast. Red carpets, gilded pillars, and a canopy of painted phoenixes soaring overhead.
At the head table stood the Emperor and Queen Dowager, flanked by ministers and brothers of Lucien.
Lucien himself stood near the center, expression unreadable.
He met my gaze for just a flicker.
My spine stiffened.
I was led to my seat, directly beside him.
Not across the table, not behind. Side by side.
I sank to my seat.
My front skirt spread in perfect folds. Masks and whispers and music began, but I met none.
The Emperor stood, pouring wine from a carved jade decanter. The crystal glass caught torchlight, glinted.
"My daughter-in-law," he proclaimed, voice regal and cold, "the Crown Princess Seraphine. Today we celebrate unity. But in truth, a palace requires balance."
I felt the knife of those words, even as every eye turned to Lucien.
He raised his glass in a curt nod.
"To our palace," the Queen Dowager intoned. "And the harmony of household."
But then, unexpected:
"The Emperor decrees that Prince Lucien shall take a concubine. A woman of virtuous birth. To grant heirs and carry forth the line."
A hush. Not of courtesy, but shock.
Lucien's shoulders stiffened.
Eyes flicked to me, once again, cool and distant.
I stirred my cup lightly, wine trembling.
The world shifted.
As the announcement echoed, the silence felt like a blade drawn across my skin.
I should've been furious.
I should've screamed.
But i didn't.
Instead, I kept my face still.
My hand tightened on the silk of my dress.
My pulse thundered beneath pale skin.
Lucien did not flinch.
Neither did I.
He stood.
Bowed stiffly to the Emperor, as if nothing had changed.
I stood too.
When we left the hall afterward, we passed through whispering ministers.
The empress won't like Seraphine's temper.
She can't bear to share him.
Such pride.
I let each whisper anchor into me.
Soon after the exit, alone in the quiet gardens, Lucien halted.
I stopped too.
"He desires a concubine," I said, voice flat.
He didn't deny it.
Of course, he didn't.
I stared at him, eyes unmoving.
His silence was the answer i already knew. It twisted inside me, slow and deliberate like a knife.
"If you bring a concubine, i swear! I'll make her suffer using my own hand! Until she—-"
I didn't even finish what I was about to say—
because i saw him raise his hand.
Was he going to hurt me?
I took a step forward.
Then another.
And before anyone could speak, I reached up and pulled the hairpin from my crown, an iron pin forged with the crest of my mother's bloodline, shaped into the ancient wings of a dragon. Cold. Heavy. Real.
I shoved it into his hand, hard enough for our fingers to brush, before guiding his own hand, pin still in it, straight to the base of my throat.
Gasps echoed faintly from behind.
But no one dared speak.
"Do it," I hissed, voice shaking now, not from fear, but from the weight of everything i've had to bury. "Go on. Hurt me. Kill me, if that's what you want. But don't you ever think i will sit back and watch you live happily ever after with someone else."
His brows twitched, but still, he didn't speak.
"If you bring another woman into this palace," I breathed, "then you bring her into a war. And i swear, Lucien, if you make me the villain, then i will become one. I won't let either of you be happy. Even if it kills me."
He flinched.
That was the only thing i wanted to see.
I stepped back, yanked the pin from his frozen grip, and tucked it back into my sleeve with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.
I didn't wait for a reply.
Didn't care.
I turned, skirts flaring, and walked past the stunned silence of his aides and Elise, who stood still like marble statues. They knew better than to follow.
Each step i took echoed through the corridor like thunder.
I didn't glance at the nobles who lowered their gazes. Didn't acknowledge the guards who pretended not to exist.
Their fear was my shield now.
By the time i reached my chamber, I felt the fury burn in my throat, pulsing behind my eyes.
And when i slammed the doors, they didn't just close.
They cracked.