The break came after three hours of discussions about grain shipments and magical artifact regulations. Ash slipped away from the human delegation, claiming need of fresh air, and made his way to the palace gardens—specifically, to the ornamental fountain where he'd steadied himself the night before.
The serpent-shaped hedge was still a wreck. Branches lay scattered across the manicured lawn, and a pair of groundskeepers were already at work, their expressions suggesting they were mentally composing very strongly worded complaints.
Ash winced and kept walking.
He found a secluded alcove behind a towering topiary of a rearing dragon, half-hidden by flowering vines that spilled purple blossoms across a stone bench. He sat, let out a long breath, and put his head in his hands.
This is fine. Everything is fine. You just need to focus on the alliance. The alliance is what matters. Not—
" Not what? "
The voice nearly stopped his heart.
Ash spun, hand flying to his chest in a gesture that was probably more dramatic than strictly necessary. "Gods above, Your Highness Seraphina—do you want me to expire on the spot? You almost gave me heart attack."
Seraphina giggled, stepping out from behind the topiary with all the grace of a cat who knew exactly how cute she was. She'd changed out of her council gown into something simpler—a flowing tunic of soft gold, her flame-red hair braided back from her face. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, tipped with a puff of scales that matched her hair.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You just looked so intense sitting there. Like you were solving the mysteries of the universe or something." She plopped down on the bench, patting the space beside her. "Come on, sit. Tell me what's eating you. Is it the trade negotiations? Because Father can be so stubborn about tariffs, but I promise he'll come around eventually."
Ash hesitated for exactly two seconds—long enough to remind himself of the plan, the real plan, the one that didn't involve getting thrown out windows or developing inconvenient feelings for grumpy dragon lords—then sat beside her.
Close enough to be friendly. Not so close it felt like he was trying too hard.
"Just... thinking," he said, offering a smile that he'd perfected over years of talking his way out of trouble. "Big council meetings always make my head spin. All those numbers and clauses. I'm more of a 'big picture' person, you know?"
Seraphina nodded sagely. "Oh, absolutely. Details are so tedious. That's why I have advisors." She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, I stopped listening about an hour in and just started counting the braziers. There are forty-seven, by the way. I got to thirty-eight before I lost track and had to start over."
Ash laughed—genuinely, because she was unexpectedly charming in her complete lack of political ambition. In the novel, she'd been a footnote, a catalyst for war and little more. But here, in the flesh, she was just a young woman who'd rather count fire sources than discuss grain futures.
This is good, he reminded himself. This is easy. She's likeable, she's fun, and she's the key to preventing the apocalypse. Just... do what you came here to do.
"So," he said, leaning back on the bench and tilting his head toward her with practiced ease, "forty-seven braziers. That's very specific knowledge. What else did you observe while the rest of us were suffering through tariff negotiations?"
Seraphina's golden eyes lit up—literally, there was a faint glow to them when she got excited. "Oh, so much. Lord Vexrin fell asleep during the third hour—don't tell anyone, he'd be mortified—and Lady Pyralis kept making faces at the human delegation whenever she thought no one was looking. Also, Father's tail was doing that thing it does when he's annoyed about something."
Ash's stomach did a small flip. "Thing it does?"
"Yeah, the tip twitches. Like this." She demonstrated with her own tail, the puff at the end quivering in a passable imitation of irritation. "It means he's holding back from saying something he'll regret. He does it all the time during council meetings. He said mother used to do it too. "
"Used to?"
Seraphina's expression softened, a flicker of something older and sadder passing through her golden eyes. "Yeah. Father said She passed away when she gave birth to me...." She shrugged, the motion deliberately light. "Anyway. He doesn't talk about her much. But the tail thing? That's been there forever."
Ash's chest tightened unexpectedly. Ignis, widowed. Raising a daughter alone. Holding back every sharp word because he'd learned, maybe, that words were all he had left after losing someone. It painted the previous night in a different light—that vulnerability, that desperate holding-on beneath the pride.
Stop it, he told himself firmly. You're here for Seraphina. Focus.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "That must have been hard. For both of you."
Seraphina smiled, a real one this time. "Thanks. It was. But we manage." She bumped her shoulder against his. "Now, enough sad stuff. Tell me about you. What's Prince Asher of Seiena really like, when he's not being diplomatic and charming at council meetings?"
Ash considered his options. He could deflect, keep things surface-level, maintain the careful persona he'd constructed. Or he could give her something real—not everything, obviously, but enough to build trust. Enough to make her want to marry him, when the time came.
"I'm a fraud," he said, and watched her eyebrows shoot up. "Completely. Utterly. Back home, I'm the prince who'd rather sneak into the kitchens at midnight than attend formal dinners. I read trashy novels—" literally lived in one, he didn't add, "—and I have a terrible habit of saying exactly what I'm thinking at exactly the wrong moments. The diplomacy? That's learned. The charm?" He winked. "That's just survival instinct."
Seraphina burst out laughing, the sound bright and musical in the garden air. "Oh, I knew it. I knew you weren't as polished as you pretended to be. No one with eyes that mischievous could be that proper."
"Mischievous?" Ash pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know these eyes have been certified as 'perfectly respectable' by at least three royal courts."
"Liar." She was grinning now, leaning into his space with the easy comfort of someone who'd decided he was safe. "They're definitely mischievous. I noticed the first time we met. You looked at me like you were figuring out how to get away with something."
Because I was, Ash thought. Just not the something you think.
But he laughed along with her, letting the moment stretch, letting the connection build. This was good. This was right. Seraphina was warm and genuine and exactly the kind of ally he needed. If he could secure this match, the future would shift—no offended princess, no burning empire, no revenge-fueled protagonist arc.
And Ignis would just... be his father-in-law.
The thought landed like a stone in his stomach.