Sera's POV
Sera was halfway to the exit when a palace servant blocked her path.
Lady Sera Ashwood? The young man bowed. Duke Kaelen Nightraven requests the honor of a dance.
Sera's blood turned to ice.
A dance. With the man who'd sentenced Princess Cassia to death. The man who'd just told her he'd be watching her closely. The man whose suspicious gray eyes seemed to see straight through every lie she'd built.
I'm afraid I'm not feeling well— Sera started.
The Duke insists. The servant's polite smile didn't reach his eyes. He's waiting on the dance floor.
It's not a request. It's a command.
Sera's mind raced through options. Refuse, and she'd look suspicious. Accept, and she'd have to endure close proximity to the man who haunted her nightmares.
But refusing would be worse.
Of course, Sera heard herself say. I'd be honored.
The servant led her through the crowd toward the center of the ballroom. Nobles parted like water, whispering behind fans and wine glasses. Everyone wanted to see why Duke Nightraven—who famously never danced—had chosen a mysterious merchant from the provinces.
Kaelen stood waiting, one hand extended.
Up close, he was even more striking than Sera remembered. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips pressed into a line that might have been cruel or might have been carefully controlled. But it was his eyes that trapped her—winter-storm gray, intelligent and intense, studying her like she was a book written in a language he was determined to translate.
Lady Sera. His voice was quiet, meant only for her. You look like you're walking to an execution.
The word hit her like a physical blow. Sera's breath caught.
He doesn't know. He can't know. It's just an expression.
I'm simply nervous, Your Grace. I've never danced with someone of your rank before.
Liar. But he said it almost gently, taking her hand.
Electricity shot through Sera's palm the instant their skin touched.
Kaelen's eyes widened slightly. He'd felt it too—that impossible spark crackling between them like lightning.
The music is starting, he said, pulling her closer.
His hand settled on her waist, warm even through the fabric of her gown. They began to move, and Sera's body responded instinctively to the familiar rhythm.
No. Stop. Sera wouldn't know court dances this well. Sera is a merchant. Sera never waltzed in this ballroom a hundred times as a princess.
But her feet already knew the steps. Her posture was already perfect. Years of royal training couldn't be buried, only hidden beneath layers of lies.
You dance beautifully, Kaelen observed, spinning her smoothly. His voice held something sharp. Suspicion. Remarkably well for a merchant's daughter.
Sera forced a light laugh. My father believed in a well-rounded education. He hired the best dance instructors.
Did he? Kaelen's gaze swept over her face. And what else did he teach you? How to navigate court politics like you've done it your entire life? How to carry yourself with unconscious grace that takes nobles years to perfect?
I'm naturally quick to learn, Your Grace.
You're naturally something. He pulled her through a turn, and they moved together with perfect synchronization. But I don't think it's quick learning. I think you've done this before. Many times before.
Fear iced through Sera's chest. You're imagining things.
Am I? Kaelen's hand tightened on her waist, drawing her close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. Then explain why you move like a princess.
Sera's heart stopped.
He knows. He recognizes something. This is over.
But when she looked up, Kaelen's expression wasn't certain. It was confused. Searching. Like he saw something familiar but couldn't quite place it.
I had excellent teachers, Your Grace, Sera managed. That's all.
Yes, but teachers can't give you that. His thumb brushed against her waist—probably unconscious, but it sent heat flooding through her. That bearing. That confidence. You carry yourself like someone born to power. Like ruling is in your blood.
Their eyes locked.
The ballroom faded. The music became distant. All Sera could see was Kaelen's face inches from hers—those storm-gray eyes studying her with an intensity that felt like drowning.
This was the man who'd destroyed her life. Who'd condemned an innocent woman based on lies. Who'd sent her to suffocate in absolute darkness.
Yet standing this close, pressed against him with music swirling around them, Sera felt something impossible stirring in her chest. Something that felt terrifyingly like attraction.
You hate him. He tried to kill you. This is survival, not
Who are you really? Kaelen whispered.
The question hung between them like a blade.
I'm exactly who I appear to be, Sera said, but her voice shook.
Another lie. Kaelen spun her again, and when they came back together, his expression had shifted. Softer somehow. Almost vulnerable. I can't shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere. That we've met before. That you're
The music ended abruptly.
They stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, still holding each other while couples around them separated and applauded. Sera became aware of hundreds of eyes watching them. Whispering. Speculating about why the Duke had chosen her.
Kaelen stepped back slowly, releasing her waist but keeping hold of her hand for one extra heartbeat.
Thank you for the dance, Lady Sera. His voice was formal now, controlled. But his eyes still burned with questions. It was... enlightening.
He bowed and walked away, leaving Sera standing alone with her heart racing.
For the rest of the evening, she felt his gaze on her.
When she spoke with nobles, he watched from across the room. When she moved toward the refreshment tables, his eyes followed. When she finally made her way toward the exit, she glanced back.
Kaelen stood near the throne platform, arms crossed, staring at her with the focused intensity of a predator who'd just decided what to hunt.
Beside him, Viktor—his guard captain, leaned close and said something. Kaelen nodded without looking away from Sera.
He's already planning his investigation. Already deciding how to uncover my secrets.
Sera escaped into the cool night air, her hands trembling.
She'd prepared for many things. For Elara's suspicion. For Dorian's guilt. For the danger of returning to court.
But she hadn't prepared for Duke Kaelen Nightraven.
Hadn't prepared for the way electricity sparked when he touched her. For the intelligence in his eyes that saw through every carefully constructed lie. For the impossible pull between them that felt like gravity.
Most terrifyingly, she hadn't prepared for the moment during their dance when she'd looked into his eyes and felt something shift. Something dangerous.
Because hating the man who'd tried to kill you was simple.
But what happened when that same man looked at you like you were the most fascinating mystery he'd ever encountered?
What happened when your enemy's touch made your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear?
Sera climbed into her carriage, her mind spinning.
She'd survived the masquerade. Maintained her disguise. Avoided direct exposure.
But as the palace disappeared behind her, one truth settled in her chest with terrifying certainty:
Duke Kaelen Nightraven was suspicious. Curious. Determined.
And he wouldn't stop until he discovered every secret she was hiding.
Even if that discovery destroyed them both.