Sera's POV
The rumors had teeth.
Sharp, glittering teeth that sank into the marrow of the Glass Palace and spread through Elysian Prep like wildfire.
And I, Seraphina Valmont, did what I always did. I played marbles. Untouchable.
When Sebastian swaggered into History three minutes late, I didn't even flick a lash in his direction. When he leaned against my locker, all insolent grin and lazy drawl, I brushed past him without a word. When whispers about dawn photos of us circulated, I drowned them under layers of poise so cold they nearly froze me from the inside out.
No glances. No acknowledgments. Not even when Penny leaned over and whispered, "He's staring at you again, Sera. It's embarrassing."
But masks crack under pressure. And Sebastian? He was pressure personified.
By the fifth day, his shadow followed me everywhere. Across the cafeteria. Through the library stacks. Even as I swept past the rotunda banners, chin high.
And always, I felt it—that heat, that pull, like his gaze was threading hooks through my skin.
"Why are you ignoring him?" Celeste whispered one afternoon in the courtyard, her pale brows lifting. Her tone was curious, not judgmental, but her eyes cut sharp as diamonds.
"Because he doesn't matter," I lied.
Celeste's lips curved faintly. "If he didn't matter, you wouldn't be working this hard to convince everyone else."
Later that day, Sebastian cornered her outside the committee hall. I caught the edge of it through a half-open door.
"Talk to her for me," his voice was low, impatient.
Celeste's laugh was soft, surprised. "Seraphina isn't a project you can hand to someone else, Blackwell. If you want her to listen, stop trying to break down her walls. Start showing her why you're on the other side of them."
I slammed the door before I could hear more. My hands shook. Because she was right. And I hated that she was right.
It happened during Fundraiser Committee hours.
I'd stayed behind in the planning room, sorting through donation forms and vendor bids, when the door slammed shut.
"Enough."
I didn't need to turn. I knew that voice. That storm.
"I'm busy."
"No," he said, his footsteps cutting through the silence as he stalked closer. "You're hiding. And I'm sick of it."
I kept my hands steady on the papers, though my pulse thrashed. "Not everything is about you, Blackwell."
"Really? Then tell me why I'm the one you can't even look at anymore."
My jaw tightened. "Because looking at you makes the rumors real."
His breath caught, sharp, before he laughed without humor. "So that's it? You're afraid of whispers? You? The Seraphina Valmont who could end anyone in this school with a single raised brow?"
I spun then, furious, my mask fracturing. "Don't you get it? I can't afford this. I can't afford you. One misstep and it's not just me who burns—it's my family. My crown. Everything."
His eyes searched mine, desperate, pained. "Then tell me one thing, Sera. Are you avoiding me because of them… or because of me?"
The air between us crackled.
I opened my mouth. No sound came out.
His expression hardened. "That's what I thought."
-----
Sebastian's POV
Her silence was worse than her insults. At least when she threw barbs, I could fire back, feel alive in the war between us. But this? Her pretending I wasn't even here?
Unbearable.
"I don't care about the photo," I said, sharper than I meant. "I don't care what the vultures whisper. But I care that you're looking at me like I'm poison."
Her chin lifted, defiant. "Maybe you are."
That stung more than I let on.
"I think I know the reason why Marcus hates my guts. But I won't apologize for wanting the truth," I said, my voice low, shaking. "Even if it means dragging the whole rotten system into the light."
She blinked. "What truth?"
And suddenly, it spilled out—weeks of tension, nights spent combing through my uncle's files, the crest etched into my memory.
"I think the dynasties framed someone. I don't know who yet, but the pieces don't fit. The D'Arclays don't just vanish. They were erased. And we're all pretending not to see it."
Her gasp was sharp, as if I'd struck her. "Do you hear yourself? Do you even understand what you're accusing?"
"I understand more than you think."
"No, Sebastian. You're throwing fire into a room full of powder, and you're too reckless to care who burns with you."
My hands curled into fists. "Better to burn than to live in chains."
Her eyes blazed. "That's easy to say when it isn't your crown on the line."
-----
Sera's POV
"You don't get it," I snapped, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "You don't know what it's like to wake up every morning knowing your family's name is the only thing standing between you and ruin. You don't get to just… guess at conspiracies like it's a game."
His laugh was humorless. "You think this is a game? My own family sent me away because I wouldn't play by their rules. I know exactly what it's like to drown in a name you didn't choose."
For a moment, we just stared at each other, breathing hard, two storms colliding in a room too small to contain us.
And then—against my better judgment—I almost laughed. Because we sounded less like heirs and more like what we really were: seventeen. Angry, confused, terrified, seventeen.
His mouth curved at the same time mine almost did. "You're impossible," he muttered.
"You're insufferable," I shot back.
But neither of us moved away.
If anything, we leaned closer.
-----
Sebastian's POV
She didn't realize how close I was to kissing her. Maybe I didn't realize either.
But I knew this: every wall she built, I wanted to climb. Every dagger she threw, I wanted to catch.
And every time she pushed me away, I only wanted to get closer.
Because Seraphina Valmont wasn't just the Queen of Elysian Prep. She was the only weakness I refused to let go of.