SERAPHINE POV
Okay.
Breathe in… breathe out… try not to pass out from either shock or my own inner chaos.
Because I did NOT—absolutely NOT—expect the entire kingdom to explode into a frenzy over my doodles, Titanic monologue, and half-assed weapon seminar.
Yet here I am, slumped on the balcony of my royally assigned chamber, staring into the very expensive horizon like a traumatized prophet.
Coffi set down a delicate porcelain cup in front of me with the soft, terrifying efficiency of a woman who deals with my disasters daily.
"My lady, your tea."
I sagged deeper into my chair. "Make it stronger."
"It is already the strongest blend allowed by law, my lady."
"…Add cake, then."
She sighed like a disappointed mother, but slid a plate of vanilla cake toward me anyway. Latte, bless her pancake soul, stood behind me waving her new royal fan like she was trying to generate a typhoon.
"The queen said it's crafted from phoenix feathers," Latte whispered reverently.
