Sera's POV
I wake up to find Cassian staring at a piece of paper like it's a death sentence.
"What is it?" My voice comes out rough. My stomach wound throbs with every breath, but I push the pain aside. Pain is weakness, and I can't afford to be weak right now.
Cassian looks up, and I see something in his golden eyes I've never seen before—fear. Real, genuine fear.
"We have a traitor," he says quietly, handing me the note.
I read it once. Then again. The words make my blood run cold.
"Enjoy your trip north, Prince Cassian. The cold will be the least of your worries. We'll be waiting. And this time, Lady Sera won't survive our welcome. —A Friend"
"Where did you find this?" I ask, keeping my voice steady even though my hands want to shake.
"On the floor by your bed. It wasn't there an hour ago." Cassian's jaw clenches. "Which means someone dropped it recently. Someone who was in this room during our meeting."
The implications hit me like a punch to the gut. King Aldric. My father. The guards. The physician. One of them is working for our enemy.
"Could be a servant," I suggest, though I don't believe it. "Someone who slipped in while we were distracted."
"Your father's guards have been watching this door since the fire. No servants came in." Cassian runs his hand through his hair in frustration. "It's someone we trust. Someone close."
I force myself to sit up fully, ignoring the sharp pain in my stomach. "Then we trust no one. When we go north, we bring only people we can verify aren't traitors."
"And how do we verify that?"
"We test them." I've spent six months learning how to expose liars and traitors. It's amazing what you learn when everyone thinks you're too broken to be a threat. "Give each suspect different false information about our travel plans. See which version reaches our enemies."
Cassian stares at me like I just solved an impossible puzzle. "That's brilliant."
"I'm not just a pretty face with a scar." The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don't apologize. He needs to understand I'm not the helpless girl from the engagement ball anymore.
"I know." His voice is soft, sincere. "I'm starting to see that."
An awkward silence falls between us. Part of me wants to trust this new version of Cassian—the one who jumps through windows to save me, who fights assassins despite being wounded, who looks at me like I'm a person instead of a political tool.
But another part remembers standing at that engagement ball, hearing him call me "damaged goods" while the entire court laughed. That memory burns like acid.
"We should prepare for the journey," I say, changing the subject. "Three days isn't much time."
"You need to rest—"
"I need to be ready to fight." I swing my legs over the bed's edge. Every movement hurts, but I've fought through worse. "Those five assassins won't wait for me to heal. And neither will whoever's behind this conspiracy."
Cassian moves to help me stand, but I wave him off. I need to do this myself. Need to prove I'm not helpless.
I manage three steps before my legs buckle.
Cassian catches me before I hit the floor. His arms are strong, steady. For a moment, I'm pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, smelling the mixture of blood and smoke that clings to both of us.
"You're not helpless," he says quietly, reading my mind. "You're injured. There's a difference."
"Tell that to my pride."
He helps me back to the bed, and I hate that I need the help. Hate feeling weak. Hate that after everything I've survived, a knife wound has reduced me to this.
"Your father is sending documents about the Northern Territory," Cassian says, pulling up a chair. "Reports, maps, lists of corrupt nobles. I thought you might want to see them. Start planning."
"You want my help planning?" I can't hide my surprise. "I'm just supposed to be the bait who goes along for protection."
"No. You're supposed to be my partner." He meets my eyes steadily. "I meant what I said earlier. I need your strategic mind. Your ability to see patterns, to investigate, to lead. The North won't be saved by one person. It needs both of us."
Something in his tone makes my chest tight. This doesn't sound like the drunk prince who destroyed me. This sounds like... someone else entirely.
"Who are you really?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "Everyone keeps saying you're different. That you've changed. But people don't change this much in three days."
Cassian is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is careful. "What if I told you the old Cassian died three days ago? That the person sitting here is what's left after burning away all the weakness?"
"I'd say that sounds poetic but impossible."
"Maybe." A strange smile crosses his face. "Or maybe sometimes people only truly change when they're forced to. When they hit rock bottom and have to choose between dying or becoming someone better."
I study his face, trying to understand. There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before. A coldness that reminds me of warriors I've trained with—people who've killed and survived and learned to live with their scars.
Before I can probe deeper, a knock sounds at the door.
"Lady Sera?" A female voice calls through the wood. "It's your sister Morgana. May I come in?"
My blood turns to ice.
Morgana. My beautiful, perfect twin sister. The one person in my family I thought I could trust after my parents sold me to a wastrel prince.
Cassian's hand drops to a dagger he's hidden in his belt. "Do you want to see her?"
Do I? Part of me wants to say no. But another part—the part that spent six months gathering evidence and learning to be strategic—knows this is an opportunity.
"Let her in," I say quietly. "But stay close."
Cassian nods and opens the door.
Morgana sweeps in like a summer breeze. She's stunning as always—black hair perfectly styled, green eyes bright with concern, wearing an expensive dress that makes her look like a queen. She's what I would look like if I hadn't been "damaged."
"Oh, Sera!" She rushes to my bedside, her face a mask of worry. "I heard about the fire! Are you alright? When Father said you were stabbed, I was so frightened!"
"I'm fine," I say carefully, watching her face. "Just resting."
Morgana's eyes flick to Cassian, and something cold passes through them before she masks it with a polite smile. "Prince Cassian. Thank you for saving my sister. Despite... everything between you two."
"Lady Morgana." Cassian's voice is neutral, but I see his hand still near that dagger. "It's good of you to visit."
Morgana turns back to me, taking my hand. Her touch is warm, sisterly. Everything it should be. "Father told me you're going north with the prince. Are you sure that's wise? You're injured, and the North is so dangerous."
"I'll be fine."
"But with Prince Cassian? After what he did to you?" Morgana lowers her voice like she's sharing a secret. "Sera, I know you're trying to be brave, but you don't have to do this. Come home. Let me take care of you."
The concern in her voice sounds so real. If I didn't know better, I'd believe she actually cared.
But I do know better.
"Morgana," I say slowly, "do you remember the accident? Two years ago? The one that gave me this scar?"
Her face flickers—just for a second—before the mask of concern returns. "Of course. That terrible carriage accident. I still have nightmares about almost losing you."
"It wasn't a carriage accident, was it?"
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
Morgana's smile doesn't change, but her eyes go cold as winter. "What are you talking about?"
"The brakes on my carriage were cut. The driver was paid to crash on that mountain road. The healer who 'accidentally' gave me the wrong medicine afterward, making my wound infected." I squeeze her hand tighter, not letting her pull away. "That wasn't an accident. That was attempted murder."
"Sera, the fever from your wound made you confused—"
"I have proof." Cassian pulls out a folded paper from his pocket. One of the documents from Adrian's office. "A letter from you to Prince Adrian, discussing the 'unfortunate accident' that should have killed the 'scarred embarrassment.' Those are your words, aren't they, Lady Morgana?"
Morgana's mask finally cracks. Her beautiful face twists into something ugly—hate mixed with contempt. She jerks her hand away from mine.
"You read my private letters?" Her voice turns sharp. "How dare you!"
"How dare I?" Rage bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. "How dare YOU try to murder your own sister!"
"Murder?" Morgana laughs, but it's a bitter sound. "I was doing you a favor. You were always Father's favorite—the warrior daughter, the brilliant strategist, the one groomed for political marriage. What was I? The pretty one. The spare. The decoration." Her eyes blaze with years of jealousy. "Then you got that scar, and suddenly you weren't so perfect anymore. I thought Father would finally see me. But no—he still chose YOU for the prince! Even damaged, you were better than me!"
The truth hits me like a physical blow. My own sister. My twin. She tried to kill me out of jealousy.
"So you arranged the accident," I whisper. "And when that failed, you aligned yourself with Adrian. Helped him destroy my engagement to Cassian. Spread rumors about me being damaged goods."
"Adrian saw your potential as a threat," Morgana says coldly. "A Blackthorn warrior princess with royal connections? You could have built real power. We couldn't allow that." She smiles cruelly. "Driving you to despair was easier than I expected. One public humiliation at your engagement ball, and you fell apart beautifully."
Cassian makes a move toward her, but I hold up my hand. I need to hear this. All of it.
"And now?" I ask. "Are you working with whoever's trying to kill me?"
Morgana's smile widens. "Who do you think sent the assassins, dear sister? Who do you think has been poisoning your food for six months? Who do you think set the fire in the medical wing?" She leans close, her voice dropping to a poisonous whisper. "Me. It's always been me."
The confession hangs in the air like smoke.
Cassian moves fast, grabbing Morgana's arm before she can run. "You're confessing to attempted murder of a royal family member. You're under arrest."
"You can't prove anything," Morgana hisses. "It's my word against yours. And who will believe the scarred failure and the wastrel prince?"
"They'll believe this." Cassian pulls a small device from his pocket—something I don't recognize. A wire connected to a small box. "You've been recorded. Every word."
Morgana's face goes white with shock. "That's impossible. That technology doesn't—"
She stops, realizing she almost revealed something important.
"Doesn't what?" I press. "Doesn't exist? Doesn't work? What aren't you telling us, Morgana?"
Before she can answer, Morgana's hand moves faster than I can track. She pulls a thin blade from her hair and slashes at Cassian's face.
He dodges, but the blade cuts across his cheek. Blood wells up instantly.
Morgana bolts for the door, but the Blackthorn guards outside grab her. She screams and thrashes, but they hold her tight.
"Let me go! You can't do this! They'll come for you! ALL OF YOU! You can't stop what's coming!"
"Who's coming?" Cassian demands, pressing his hand to his bleeding cheek. "Who's behind this? WHO?"
Morgana just laughs—a wild, unhinged sound. "You'll find out soon enough. In the North. They're waiting for you. And this time, there won't be any windows to jump through."
The guards drag her away, her threats echoing down the hallway.
I sit on the bed, shaking. Not from fear. From rage so pure it feels like fire in my veins.
My own sister. She tried to kill me. Multiple times. Years of lies and manipulation and fake concern, all hiding murder.
"Sera." Cassian's voice is gentle. He's pressing a cloth to his cheek, but his eyes are on me. "Are you—"
"I'm fine." But I'm not. I'm breaking apart inside, all the walls I built to protect myself crumbling. "She's my sister. My twin. We shared a womb. How could she—"
My voice cracks. I hate it. Hate showing weakness. Hate that after everything, this is what breaks me.
Cassian sits beside me on the bed. He doesn't try to hug me or offer empty comfort. He just sits there, a solid presence.
"In my experience," he says quietly, "the people closest to us can hurt us the most. Because we never see them coming."
Something in his voice tells me he's speaking from experience. From his own betrayals and losses.
"Did someone close to you betray you?" I ask.
"Yes." The single word carries so much pain. "Someone I loved like a brother. Someone I would have died for. He killed me anyway."
The way he says it—so certain, so final—sends chills down my spine. Like he's not speaking metaphorically.
Before I can ask what he means, my father bursts into the room with his guards.
"Sera! What's this I hear about Morgana being arrested for—" He stops when he sees my face. "Oh, gods. It's true, isn't it? She really tried to kill you."
I can only nod. Words won't come.
My father's face crumbles. He looks ancient suddenly, broken by the weight of one daughter trying to murder another. "I'm so sorry. I should have seen it. Should have protected you better."
"It's not your fault," I manage to say. "She fooled all of us."
But even as I say it, I'm thinking: how many others has she fooled? How deep does this conspiracy go?
My father stays for an hour, alternating between rage at Morgana and concern for me. Finally, Cassian politely asks him to let me rest. Surprisingly, my father agrees.
"We'll question Morgana in the morning," Father says. "Make her tell us everything."
After he leaves, I look at Cassian. "She won't talk. She'd rather die than betray whoever's behind this."
"I know." Cassian examines the recording device he showed Morgana. "This isn't real, by the way. Just a bluff. Something I put together from random pieces to look convincing."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "That was smart."
"I have my moments." He pauses. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we start preparing for real. New guards. New servants. People we test and verify before we trust them."
"And Morgana?"
"Locked in a cell where she can't hurt anyone." His voice turns cold. "She'll answer for what she did. I promise you that."
I want to believe him. Want to believe in this new, determined version of Prince Cassian who seems to actually care about justice.
But trust doesn't come easy when your own sister tried to kill you.
As Cassian turns to leave, I call out: "Wait."
He stops at the door.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For having my back tonight. For not letting me face her alone."
"Always," he says simply. "From now on, we watch each other's backs. Partners."
"Partners," I echo.
After he leaves, I lie in the dark thinking about everything that's changed. My sister is a traitor. There's a massive conspiracy targeting both our families. And I'm about to travel north with a prince who may or may not be who he claims to be.
Three days until we leave.
Three days to prepare for whatever's waiting for us.
I close my eyes, but sleep won't come. Because I keep thinking about Morgana's final words:
"They're waiting for you. And this time, there won't be any windows to jump through."
Who's waiting? How many enemies do we have?
And why do I get the feeling that going north isn't escaping danger—it's walking straight into a trap?