Seraphina's POV
I'm standing in front of the palace gates, and I can't breathe.
Two years. It's been two years since guards dragged me out of this place in disgrace. Two years since my life ended.
Now I'm back. But I'm not Seraphina anymore.
Are you ready? Marguerite asks beside me. She's dressed as my lady's maid, gray hair hidden under a bonnet. No one would recognize the fierce Mother Superior in this humble servant.
No, I whisper honestly. What if someone recognizes me? What if
They won't. She squeezes my hand. You're Evangeline Sinclair now. A wealthy widow from Valdoria. You're untouchable. Mysterious. Everything Seraphina wasn't.
I touch the veil covering my face. Underneath, I'm wearing the violet contact lenses that change my eye color. My brown hair is styled in elegant curls nothing like Seraphina's simple blonde braids. My mourning dress is expensive black silk that screams wealth and sophistication.
I don't look like Seraphina. I don't sound like her. I don't even move like her anymore.
But inside, my heart screams with fear.
The black carriage door opens. A palace servant bows. Madame Sinclair? Welcome to Astoria. The Dowager Queen is expecting you.
This is it. No turning back.
I step out of the carriage with perfect posture, head high. Marguerite follows three steps behind like a proper maid.
The palace looks exactly the same. White marble. Gold trim. Beautiful and cold, just like I remember.
My hands want to shake but I clench them into fists hidden in my skirts. Evangeline wouldn't shake. Evangeline is confident. Powerful. Unafraid.
Be Evangeline, I tell myself. Seraphina died two years ago.
We enter the grand hallway. Servants stare at me with curiosity. They don't recognize me. Good.
But then I see Sister Agnes walking past the mean nun from the convent. She glances at me, frowns like she's trying to remember something, then shakes her head and walks on.
She doesn't know me. The disguise works.
Madame Sinclair? A young servant appears. The Dowager Queen asks that you be presented to the court immediately. There's a reception today.
My stomach drops. I wasn't supposed to meet everyone today. I thought I'd have time to prepare.
Of course, I say in my Valdorian accent. I'm honoured.
The servant leads us through corridors I used to know by heart. But I pretend everything is new. Evangeline has never been here before. She's a stranger.
We reach the throne room doors. They're massive, carved with gold. Behind those doors are hundreds of nobles. Including everyone who destroyed me.
Your veil, Madame, the servant says. Court protocol requires faces to be visible.
I remove the veil with steady hands. Let them see Evangeline's face. Let them fail to see Seraphina hiding underneath.
The doors open.
Music stops. Hundreds of faces turn toward me.
I walk forward with my chin high, my expression calm. Every eye is on me. Judging. Evaluating. Wondering who this mysterious widow is.
I scan the crowd with practiced casualness. There's Violet near the windows, wearing pink and looking smug. She hasn't changed at all. My blood boils but my face stays serene.
There's Julian with his wife Helena. They're standing apart, not touching. Their marriage looks as miserable as Thomas said. Perfect.
There's Father Duke Ashford talking to other nobles. The man who disowned me. Who sent assassins to kill me. Rage burns in my chest but I smile slightly, like I'm admiring the beautiful room.
And then I see him.
Crown Prince Alexander stands near the throne, looking exhausted. His face is thinner than I remember. Dark circles under his eyes. Shoulders heavy with weight.
He looks like he hasn't slept in months.
Marcus's letter flashes through my mind. He's drowning in guilt. Don't hate him.
Our eyes meet across the room.
Something flickers in Alexander's gaze. Recognition? No confusion. Like he's seeing a ghost but knows that's impossible.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
He takes one step toward me, then stops. His brow furrows. He's trying to figure out why I look familiar.
Because you watched Seraphina get destroyed, I think bitterly. You let it happen.
But then I remember he didn't let it happen. He was blackmailed. Threatened. He tried to save Marcus by staying silent, and Marcus died anyway.
The pain in Alexander's eyes suddenly makes sense. He's not just tired. He's grieving. He's lost his brother and blames himself.
Just like I blamed him.
Madame Evangeline Sinclair of Valdoria, the announcer calls out. Personal guest of Her Majesty the Dowager Queen.
The Dowager Queen Alexander's grandmother rises from her chair. She's old but sharp-eyed. She smiles at me warmly.
Madame Sinclair, welcome! I'm so pleased you accepted my invitation.
I curtsy perfectly. Your Majesty, the honor is mine. Thank you for your kindness to a lonely widow.
The court whispers. A widow? How did she become friends with the Dowager Queen?
The truth: Marguerite and the Dowager Queen were friends forty years ago, before Marguerite's scandal. Marguerite wrote to her six months ago, asking if she'd sponsor a mysterious widow from Valdoria at court. The Dowager Queen, who loves intrigue and drama, agreed immediately.
The Queen gestures for me to approach. I walk forward, aware of every eye on me.
Violet's eyes narrow as she studies my face. She looks suspicious. My heart races does she recognize me?
But then she turns away, bored. Just another widow. Nothing interesting.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Come, my dear, the Dowager Queen says. You must meet my grandson. Alexander! Come here!
No. No, not yet. I'm not ready
But Alexander is already walking toward us. His movements are stiff, formal. Up close, he looks even more tired. Even more broken.
Grandmother, he says politely.
Alexander, this is Madame Evangeline Sinclair. She's just arrived from Valdoria. Madame Sinclair, my grandson Crown Prince Alexander.
I curtsy again. Our eyes meet.
And in that moment, I see everything. His pain. His guilt. His desperate loneliness. This isn't the confident prince I remember from two years ago. This is a man barely holding himself together.
Marcus's death destroyed him.
Your Highness, I say in my Valdorian accent. I'm honoured.
Madame Sinclair. His voice is deeper than I remember. Rougher. Welcome to Astoria.
His eyes search my face like he's solving a puzzle. Forgive me, but... have we met before? You seem familiar somehow.
My heart stops. Does he recognize me?
I don't believe so, Your Highness, I say smoothly. This is my first time in Astoria. Perhaps I remind you of someone?
He stares at me for a long moment. Too long. The silence stretches.
Then he shakes his head. No. I'm sorry. I've been... tired lately. Seeing things that aren't there.
Ghosts, I think. He's seeing Marcus's ghost. And maybe Seraphina's ghost too.
I understand grief, Your Highness, I say quietly. I lost my husband a year ago. Some days, I see his face in strangers too.
Alexander's expression softens. I'm sorry for your loss.
And I'm sorry for yours. I hold his gaze. I heard about Prince Marcus. The whole world mourns with you.
Pain flashes across his face. Raw and deep. Thank you.
The Dowager Queen clears her throat. Alexander, Madame Sinclair will be staying at the palace as my personal guest. Do make her feel welcome.
Of course, Grandmother. He bows slightly to me. Madame Sinclair, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask.
Then he walks away, his shoulders hunched like he's carrying the weight of the kingdom.
I watch him go, my emotions a tangled mess. Hate. Sympathy. Anger. Understanding.
This was supposed to be simple. Come back. Seduce him. Destroy him. Get revenge.
But nothing feels simple anymore.
He likes you, the Dowager Queen whispers in my ear. I can tell. He hasn't looked at a woman like that since... well, since before Marcus died.
I'm just a widow, Your Majesty.
You're exactly what he needs. She pats my hand. Someone who understands loss. Who won't judge him. Who sees the man, not the crown.
She walks away, leaving me alone in the crowd.
Marguerite appears beside me, pretending to adjust my dress. You did well, she murmurs. No one recognized you.
Alexander almost did.
Almost doesn't count. He'll never figure it out. She straightens. Now comes the hard part. Making him fall in love with you.
I look across the room where Alexander stands alone by a window, staring at nothing.
He looks so tired. So broken. So much like I felt two years ago when everyone abandoned me.
Marcus's words echo: Save Alexander if you can. He's one of the good ones.
Can I seduce him and destroy him? Or will I end up saving him instead?
I don't know anymore.
Madame Sinclair? A voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn. Violet stands there, wearing a fake sweet smile. My stepsister. The woman who destroyed my life.
Yes? I say calmly, though inside I'm screaming.
I'm Lady Violet Ashford. I wanted to welcome you to court. Her eyes scan my face carefully. Too carefully. You know, you remind me of someone. Someone who used to be at court. Did you ever know a Lady Seraphina Ashford?
The room spins. She suspects. Oh God, she suspects.
No, I say, meeting her eyes without flinching. I've never heard that name. Why do you ask?
Violet's smile gets sharper. No reason. Just... you have a similar energy. But Seraphina is dead, so it couldn't be her. She laughs. Silly me.
She walks away, but I can feel her watching me.
Marguerite touches my arm in warning. She's suspicious.
I know.
If she figures out who you ar
She won't. I straighten my shoulders. Because Seraphina really is dead. I killed her two years ago. Now there's only Evangeline.
But inside, I'm terrified.
Because Violet always was smarter than people thought.
And if she discovers the truth, everyone I love will die.
That night, I'm alone in my guest chambers when a knock sounds at my door.
I open it carefully.
Alexander stands there, holding a single white rose.
I'm sorry to disturb you, Madame Sinclair, he says quietly. But I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. About seeing your husband's face in strangers.
Your Highness?
I see my brother everywhere. In hallways. In crowds. Sometimes I hear his laugh and turn around, but he's not there. His voice breaks. Does it get easier? The grief?
I should lie. I should manipulate him. That's the plan.
But looking at his pain, I can only tell the truth.
No, I whisper. It doesn't get easier. You just get stronger.
He nods slowly. Thank you for your honesty.
He hands me the white rose. Our fingers brush.
And in that moment, I feel it a spark. A connection. Something dangerous and real.
Goodnight, Madame Sinclair, Alexander says.
Goodnight, Your Highness.
He walks away.
I close the door and lean against it, clutching the white rose.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel anything for him.
But Marcus was right.
Alexander is one of the good ones.
And I'm about to destroy him.